Enemy Mine
by Ringshadow
Summary: [Eventually a Shounen-Ai] Not long after the war, Star Wolf is found alive, and Star Fox is sent to take care of it, setting off a chain of events that leaves Falco Lombardi alone with his worst enemy.
1. Default Chapter

Enemy Mine

Author's Note: This story is dedicated to fanfiction writers Wulf and Atroximus. If it wasn't for them, I would never have become brave enough to write this story.

Chapter One: Crawling

            A dull, monotonous noise slowly cut into Falco's consciousness, and he moaned softly, rolling over and sticking his head out from under the blanket, just his beak and eyes showing, wincing as sunlight struck his eyes. The noise continued, and he realized that someone was pounding on the door to his apartment, moaning again. It was eleven on a Monday morning, who the hell wasn't at work? Actually, he had some pretty good ideas, and he had been dreading it. Hearing the security chain rattle as the pounding took a step upward, he shoved the blanket off and stood, pulling a shirt on over his sweat shorts and stumbling out of the room, automatically sidestepping the usual clutter.

            Fox had been about to give up when the door opened halfway, Falco leaning on the frame and staring at him with a half-dead look. His feathers were mussed and stuck together at odd angles, and even as Fox watched he yawned wide enough to swallow a tennis ball. "Good morning, sunshine." He quipped, settling his hands on his hips.

            "Bite me. I've gotten about five hours of sleep. What do you want?" Falco glared half-heartedly at his wing commander and stepped aside, popping his shoulders and arms absently as he closed the door, ignoring Fox's shudder.

            "I've been trying to get ahold of you since last night." Fox replied in a peevish voice, stepping over a weight bar as Falco went past him and into the kitchenette. "Your cell phone is off, you don't answer your pager or email, and I suspect you purposely left your PC online to avoid the normal phone."

            "Your point?" He pulled a mostly finished carton of orange juice out of the fridge and took a drink straight from the carton. "Besides, I wasn't here last night. As said, I've only been here like five, six hours max."

            "Slob. Use a glass."

            "Preppy neat-freak." He deliberately took another drink, almost laughing at Fox's scowl. The younger teen could be so damn comical when he was pissed. "So, what the hell is the problem? What's so important you come banging my door down and wake me up?"

            Fox sighed and sat down at the table, pressing his fingertips together. "We're back in business."

            "No kidding? We've got a mission?" Falco lifted his eyebrows as he threw away the now-empty carton. "What kind? Can't be large-scale, the systems been so peaceful I've wanted to start a riot as of late so we can have some interesting news."

            "Search and destroy." Fox smiled when he saw Falco's eyebrows lift even higher. "Pepper gave us some intelligence that you may find interesting. Apparently, our old friend Star Wolf survived the war, and left the system to lie low for a while. The government's surveillance satellites picked up on it recently, and we're the lucky ones who get to go get them."

            Falco crossed his arms. "And we're sure it isn't just their cruiser?"

            "We're sure. I don't know many details yet, but apparently the satellite caught some radio transmissions. We know it's them. Don't ask me how they lived through that last fight." Fox watched Falco carefully as the taller man paced, apparently deep in thought. He knew that Falco's hate of their opposing mercenary team ran almost as deep as his, if not more. Because of this, he wanted to make sure Falco was thinking clearly about the matter at hand.

            "What's the pay?"

            "More then decent enough. It'll get us about halfway out of debt and give us enough leftover to coast on for five or six months, provided we don't splurge." Fox said honestly, knowing that wasn't a very long time, considering how calm the system was.

            "Couple million, then."

            "Our president considers Star Wolf a very large threat. Why, I'm not sure. From what we've seen, the cruiser is pretty beat up."

            "They have fighters, or will this be a milk run?"

            "That, we don't know."

            Falco was silent for a long moment, mind rolling over the facts presented to him. Apparently, Leon Powalski was still alive. That pissed him off; he had worked so hard to shoot the bastard out of the sky in the first place that Leon's survival seemed like some sort of cruel irony. But he wasn't all that surprised, Leon didn't die easy. People who enjoyed pain never did... "When do we ship out, boss?"

            "Seven tonight. Be on time at the launch cradle. That too much to ask?"

            "Overblown jerk."

            "You know you wouldn't have me any other way." Fox grinned and left the apartment.

            Falco locked the door behind him, wandering to his bedroom to dig up his uniform, which had gotten buried in one of the drawers, except for the jacket, which he loved and wore everywhere. He pulled off the tank top and tossed it on top of the hamper, shaking off vigorously, causing a few loose feathers to fly off and circle to the ground around him. Yawning again, he looked at himself in the mirror, frowning. All that work he'd been doing lifting weights was finally getting somewhere, but he wasn't healthy. His slack eating habits had finally started coming through, his feathers lacked luster. Shaking his head with a sigh, he gathered his uniform and trudged to the bathroom, turning the shower facets all the way to hot after he had stepped out of the worn sweat shorts.

            When was the last night he had gone without going to bar and getting at least a little smashed? It had been a while. He felt accepted in bars. There were always people willing to talk to him and a girl or two willing to dance with him. It wasn't healthy, but it was better then being lonely.

            He sighed, scrubbing sweat and cigarette smoke out of his feathers, turning his face up to the spray. Hell, seeing Fox today had been the first time in over a month! And they were best friends? He guessed that they were, but Fox's social circles were a bit different then his. Slippy and Peppy were great friends, but they were working buddies, nothing more or less. And Katt… he didn't talk to Katt anymore. He hadn't since shortly after the war.

            After rinsing out extra conditioner, he shut down the water and shook vigorously, water spraying around him. Feeling lightheaded but better, he grabbed a large towel and started drying off, preening a few feathers absently, letting that instinctive motions lull him into some semblance of being relaxed. Once he was reasonably dry, he got dressed, and stared at himself in the mirror. He looked tired, but he looked like himself now, which was always a good thing. Maybe his team members wouldn't rag on him, then.

            "So, you finally found Falco?" Peppy asked, watching Fox pull his jeep into one of the transport garages of the Great Fox.

            "He was hiding in his apartment." Fox hopped out and secured the car down absently. "Bill's right, he's been boozing it up a lot lately. I woke him up, and he looked half-dead when he answered the door."

            "Falco's always like that when he just woke up." Peppy frowned. "Or do you mean literally?"

            "Bloodshot eyes, greasy feathers, whole nine yards." They walked together up to the bridge. "He didn't get all uptight when he heard Star Wolf was still around, though. He just got thoughtful."

            "That might be worse. Let's hope he's not planning something stupid."

            "It's not our Falco if he doesn't." Fox smiled a bit. "But I'll make sure to keep a careful eye on him during the upcoming fight, if there is one."

            "There will be." Slippy said, sitting behind ROB and making some adjustments, frowning thoughtfully, tongue hanging out of the corner of his mouth. Fox choked back laughter. "It's Wolf O'Donnel and company we're discussing here, Fox. Of course there will be a fight, and it'll be full of insults and jeering. As usual."

            "True, true."

            "Oh, I got the specs of the planet they're orbiting. Want them?"

            "Let's hear them once Falco gets here, so you don't have to repeat yourself."

            "Works for me."

            Five minutes to seven that night, Falco's motorcycle flew through the air of the docking bay of the Great Fox, having just jumped the ramp. He landed and turned, leaving black streaks, and pulled off his helmet, grinning at Fox. "I'm on time."

            "Nice jump. You look better. Park the bike, we're lifting as soon as we get clearance."

            Falco rolled his eyes. "Mister Business." He parked the bike between Fox's jeep and Peppy's old truck, securing it down and cross tying it between the larger vehicles. Once this was done, he walked with Fox up to the bridge. "So, how are things with you and Fara doing?"

            "Over a year and kicking." Fox grinned, looking more triumphant then when he had won the war. "I told you I wasn't a doomed bachelor."

            "Whatever. That other chick still bothering you?"

            "What, Krystal? She finally got the hint. I think she's bothering Bill now."

            Falco laughed. "Good for Bill. He's worse of a bachelor then you were at one point."

            "You can go to hell."

            He was still laughing when the pair arrived on the bridge, Peppy reading over some of the surveillance reports, Slippy waiting for launch confirmation from the control tower. The Great Fox was a decent-sized ship, and it usually took a while to get things clear enough that they could launch safely. "You guys look bored."

            "Usual stuff." Peppy smiled. "Hey Falco, long time no see."

            "True enough, we need to arrange weekly meetings or something." He landed in his usual chair and sprawled comfortably. "So, God's in the details. Give me God."

            "You are going to go to hell for that eventually." Slippy laughed, closing up the ship for launch. "Take over ROB, time for debriefing."

            Peppy stood, watching Slippy bring up holographic displays. "Unfortunately, we don't know that much. Pictures are kind of grainy, but we know its Star Wolf's cruiser. They're orbiting a class N planet just outside of Lylat."

            "Class N?" Fox asked, lacing his fingers behind his head as the ship lifted with a deep, bone-throbbing rumble.

            "That's slang for an inhospitable planet. According to what information we have, the air's breathable, and there's water, but there are ET life forms that find us to be good eating." Slippy replied. "And NASA decided they didn't want to deal with it. It makes sense that Star Wolf chose that planet, because they can cycle their air vents frequently at a high altitude and not worry about a damn thing."

            Falco looked at the holographic image, rubbing his chin. It showed a small planet, reddish green-blue in color, with the small cruiser orbiting it. "They're alone?"

            "Completely. They might be all that's left of the Venomian force." Peppy confirmed.

            "So what's the plan?"

            Fox stood, looking at the holographic image, frowning thoughtfully. "What do we know from their radio transmissions?"

            "Not much. We get the idea they've still got some fighters in stock, but their cruiser is pretty beat up." Peppy said. "Strategic advantage to us."

            "Fast run then. We go in and hail from a distance, see if they're interested in turning themselves over. If not, we attack, take out the cruiser and capture whatever craft they bother to launch. Toss'em in the brig, hand them over to Pepper, get our paycheck. Easy."

            "It's never that easy." Slippy pointed out. "Star Wolf won't just let themselves be captured."

            "I know that, but if we can capture them, let's do so." He glanced at Falco and Peppy. "You guys good with it?"

            "We're good." Falco said as Peppy nodded. "What's our ETA?"

            "Just under an hour." ROB said automatically.

            "All right, everyone be in the launching bay in forty-five minutes. Briefing over."

            Falco was trying to remember the button combination to run diagnostics on his arwing when he noticed Peppy standing nearby, cleaning his gun and keeping half an eye on him. He sighed, closing his eyes. "Yes?"

            "How's Katt?" Peppy asked, trying to sound casual.

            "Haven't seen her in ages. We had a falling out." Giving up, he closed the cockpit and leapt down, dusting himself off absently. "Why do you ask?"

            "We're worried. We've been told that you're borderline alcoholic lately…" Peppy trailed off, seeing Falco's murderous scowl. "Christ Falco! We're just afraid that…"

            "Don't be. I'm not an alcoholic Peppy. I just hang out in bars." He tried to walk away, and ground his beak in frustration when Peppy grabbed his arm. "Look, old man. Let go of my arm. I'm not in the mood for this."

            "Just listen, Falco." When the younger man stilled, a scowl still on his face, Peppy sighed and continued. "You're drinking a lot, and you're not even legally able to drink. You and the girl of your figurative dreams haven't spoken in months. You're not even all that healthy. What's wrong? It'll be a whole lot easier if you just tell me."

            "Look, maybe I don't have the same happy-joy ending you guys do, ok?" He growled, yanking his arm free. "After the publicity rush, there was nothing for me anywhere. Nothing. Katt and I managed to stick together for less then a month before the fights became too much and she took off. The war left me no better then I was before. I have nothing."

            "You have us." Peppy's hand found his shoulder, trying to be reassuring, unable to believe this was coming out of once-cocky Falco.

            Falco choked on laughter, shaking his head. "That doesn't count for much, old man. We only see each other when we work, and that's the way it's got to be. We're all in radically different social circles. Our friends would probably kill each other." Leaving that as his parting note, he went to his room on the Great Fox, hands shoved in pockets and head down.

            "He's depressed. Badly." Peppy sighed, watching Fox twirl his guns through his fingers like some cowboy of old. "He needs help, Fox."

            "Yeah. I've been picking up on that." Fox replied quietly, staring off into space. Falco Lombardi, the biggest contradiction he knew. Biggest ego, deep self hate. Stunningly tall, habit of slouching. Player who didn't even bother staying with a girl long enough to get close to her in ANY way. "The problem is, I can't see him putting up with seeing a psychologist. He wouldn't stand for it."

            "I know. But something needs to be done."

            "I'm trying to figure that out." Fox holstered both his guns. He had always hated shoulder holsters, preferring boot or hip holsters. Currently, he wore double hip holsters at an angle. Peppy had an urge to start quoting John Wayne, hell, Fox already had the swagger down about half the time. "Think he's good to fight?"

            "He'll throw a fit if we don't let him." Slippy pointed out, sitting backwards in a chair, wrists crossed over the back of it, tapping one foot absently. One of Slippy's nervous twitches, and Slippy was always nervous before fights, wired tight with energy. "Best we can do is keep an eye on him."

            "How long before we get there, ROB?" Fox asked, looking toward the AI, which was running God-only-knew-how-complex diagnostics on the ship's guns, looking for any sign of an abnormality that could cause a problem during the upcoming fight.

            "Twenty minutes until we're out of warp." ROB replied automatically.

            "Dammit, I don't have time to talk to him." He moaned, passing a hand down his face. "Not anything worthwhile, anyways."

            "Try anyway." Peppy said, pulling on his jacket. "We'll meet you down in the docking bay."

            Fox nodded and took off down the hall, gun belts jingling softly in tune to his long stride.

            Falco was just closing his room door when Fox arrived, easily turning the corner and practically running into him, the pair ending up nose-to-nose. Falco blinked and managed a half-smile. "Whoa there, boss. What's the hurry?"

            "Wanted to talk to you before we launch." Fox replied, leaning a shoulder against the wall, twisting one ear to the side, trying to appear neutral. He knew he was failing miserably at that, he was a mercenary, but one thing he couldn't do at all was lie.

            "Oh, don't tell me you're going to rag on me like Peppy did." Falco moaned and rolled his eyes. "Fox. I'm fine."

            "The thing is, I don't think so. You looked like complete hell this morning." Fox frowned.

            "I always do when I wake up. Thanks for pointing it out."

            "You were badly hung over. Look, I… I've never been good at pep talks. I just know something, God knows only what, is wrong, and please, don't let it get you killed out there today, all right?" His hand reached out for a second, then settled on Falco's arm uncertainly. "Because I wouldn't be able to forgive myself for it."

            Falco looked down at him, covering Fox's hand with his own larger one. "I'm not going to die anytime soon, so don't worry about me. Worry about you. Your girlfriend will skin the rest of us alive if something happens to you."

            Fox managed to laugh, and after a moment Falco swept him into a brief, bone-cracking bearhug, making Fox choke and gasp.

            "Besides, if I up and died, who would have the guts to torment you, huh?" Falco jeered, rubbing his knuckles briskly through the fur between Fox's ears as his commander struggled to get free and failed miserably.

            "Falco! Let me go!" Fox fought the urge to bite Falco's arm, finally did so, and spat out feathers in frustration. "Like eww. You put conditioner in didn't you?"

            Falco let out a full, booming laugh, dropping Fox to the floor. "Yes, yes I did."

            "We're going to be out of warp in ten minutes…" Peppy's voice said, then he rounded the corner and stopped, staring at Falco laughing, with Fox on the floor, still spitting out blue feathers. "Do I want to know?"

            "No. No you don't." Falco pulled Fox up. "Come on, you sorry excuse, let's go wipe the floor with Star Wolf."


	2. Chapter Two: One Step Closer

Chapter Two: One Step Closer

            The Great Fox eased out of warp, space blurring and swaying around the ship, then becoming clear, the planet snapping into focus. ROB automatically sent signals out, questing for satellites, anything to give him information, and got no contacts except for the battered cruiser owned by Star Wolf. ROB moaned, shaking his metal head. He was flying in the dark.

            "Venomian cruiser, this is Lylatian cruiser Great Fox. Please disable your guns and allow us to come alongside."

            Leon was half-asleep when Wolf practically kicked his door in, leaning through the gaping edifice, panting. Leon looked at him, putting his feet down and crossing his arms, not bothering to get stressed. "What's the rush? We spring an air leak?" He asked in his usual smooth-operator tone.

            "Star Fox is here." Wolf replied. "They're demanding we let ourselves be boarded."

            "And the rush is?" He again asked, standing. "Shall I open the door?" Seeing Wolf's 'I will slap you' look, he shrugged. "You aren't seriously about to have us fight them with prototypes, are you? Those guns aren't what I'd call stable."

            "I am NOT turning myself over to Star Fox willingly!" Wolf spat.

            "Of course not, that'd mean you'd have to admit your crush on Fox, right?" Leon saw the strike coming and leaned backwards, watching it pass an inch over his nose. "Oh, stop the stress vibes, you'll mess up my aura for the rest of the damn day. Let's go kick their asses already." He stood, collecting his flight jacket, not looking at Wolf, at least until Wolf grabbed him and pinned him against the wall, taking advantage of the fact that Leon was smaller and slimmer.

            "What the hell are you insinuating, Powalski?" Wolf growled, canines showing and eyes borderline maniacal. "You know I am straight."

            "I know nothing." Leon replied, smile smug and oily. "And you give me no reason to suppose that. Now, we do not have time for this. If we do not respond to their hails, they'll either come alongside or just open fire." He sighed, looking at the tarot cards scattered across his desk. The Tower, the Hanged Man, and the Lovers had come up this morning, and he had yet to fathom why. "Let us go meet our destiny with open arms, hmm?" He ducked out of Wolf's hold and walked over to his desk, sweeping his cards back into a deck and tucking them in his pocket, then left the room, Wolf trailing in his wake.

            Fox was rattling his fingers impatiently when the radio clicked, and Wolf's voice came on. "Well, hello Star Fox. How long has your government known about us?"

            "About forty-eight hours. We were contacted almost immediately." Fox replied dryly. "So, are you going to power down your guns?"

            "No chance in Hell of that happening, sorry." Wolf pulled on his flight gloves, buckling in and flipping switches, the fighter coming to life around him. "That said, are you going to back off and leave?"

            "You know we can't do that, O'Donnel. We're under contract." Fox gestured at the others through the cockpit glass of his fighter, who nodded, and the fighters started coming to life, engines warming up and guns being prepared.

            "Ah, Commander McCloud, always sticking to the rules. You always were a wuss." Pigma laughed. If they hadn't been in their fighters, Wolf would have backhanded him hard enough to knock out a few teeth.

            Fox snarled. "How many times do I have to shoot you down before you finally die?!"

            "Nancy boy. Come and get us." Pigma laughed gleefully, grinning.

            Wolf switched all the fighters to a private channel. "God dammit, Pigma! When this is over, I'm locking you in the Brig for two weeks! At least!"

            "Assuming we survive this…" Andrew mumbled.

            "These fighters have four times the armor and twice as powerful guns, when compared to a basic-model Arwing." Pigma said in a matter-of-fact voice.

            "And those guns tend to blow up when fired." Andrew practically shrieked. "Didn't you see any of the tests?!"

            Leon sighed, listening to the fight rage over the radio, Wolf thundering at the top of his lungs to try to gain control before their cruiser was blown to bits. Idiots. He pulled his deck out of his pocket, shuffling, and pulled a card. Devil, upside down. The card he always associated with Pigma Dengar, a backstabbing traitor, living for money. The greedy bastard was lucky Leon hadn't poisoned him yet. "Shut UP." He finally declared irritably, shuffling the card back in. "Calm down, all of you. In case you haven't noticed, Star Fox just launched and they are coming toward this cruiser with clear intent."

            Wolf growled. "Thank you, Leon. Got a card for us?"

            A long pause. "Chariot and Temperance, both neutral. Victory possible, but also defeat. Arrogance may lead to trouble."

            Andrew mumbled something about Voodoo mumbo-jumbo, and then, the fighters launched.

            "Well, well. Look who got new birds again." Falco remarked, the Star Fox team falling into a formation and circling, watching as Star Wolf launched and charged, breaking their formation almost immediately. Teamwork wasn't high on Star Wolf's priority list. "They must have a bigger debt with a ship company then we do…"

            "No kidding. ROB scan their fighters. Stay tight guys, cover formation." Fox commanded, and the formation changed, the fighters' wings shifting position to allow the thrusters different angles. 

            "Prototype Wolfen Five fast-attack fighters." ROB announced after a few minutes watching the skirmish. The fight was barely started. "Guns and engines are predicted weak areas, but any other point is too well armored. Permission to open fire on cruiser requested."

            "Granted. Break formation."

            Wolf saw the Star Fox team break up, and almost immediately the chases began, Wolf diving after Fox, the others choosing their perspective targets. Fights with Star Fox were always fast-paced, a millisecond costing you shield energy as the enemy's shots caught you. Fox had always been good at evading.

            In a sudden move, Star Fox suddenly broke off and led them away from the cruisers, away from the large guns, and they followed, taking advantage of the straighter flight paths. Wolf tried to line up his sights, teeth bared in frustration as Fox dodged again, fighter rolling, glistening in the harsh bluish-yellow sunlight from the not-to-distant star. For a split second, he wondered if the light had caught Fox's eyes, made them light up, and shook it off. He wasn't gay. He wasn't. But he had a deep admiration of Fox McCloud.

            His fighter was jostled by shots, and he turned the fighter in a tight double u-turn, catching a glance of Lombardi, having broke away from his fight with Powalski long enough to take a potshot at his fighter. Even as he glanced, he saw the two start fighting again, chasing each other back the way they had came, back toward the planet, away from their respective groups.

            He grabbed his radio. "Leon! What are you doing?"

            "Taking care of business." Was the growled reply, the fighters distant now, dodging between the warring cruisers, weaving through the deadly maze of powerful shots. The Great Fox was ripping apart Star Wolf's cruiser, and Wolf wasn't sure he even cared anymore.

            "You're too far away! If you get into trouble, we won't be able to help."

            "Good." Leon turned off his radio, shaking his head. Wolf didn't understand and never had. His fight with Lombardi was supposed to be one-on-one. It had been on the streets, when they had fought with knives and chains, struggling hand to hand, neither winning, both bleeding, both somehow grinning when cops broke up the fight, silent promises it would be continued later, burning hate unresolved, but temporarily satisfied.

            "God damn it…" Wolf hissed, turning back to the fight at hand. His distraction had put Fox in a better position, and now Wolf was the one running, the pair doing endless circles and loops, never able to land shots that did damage. He knew this fight was going to take a while, and when he saw the distant flash of light that meant his cruiser had gone up in a brilliant explosion, he knew it was probably to the death.

            Falco dove into the cloudy atmosphere, chasing Leon or being chased, the pair disappearing in and out of clouds, catching lightening from a vicious storm, finally finding each other and locking into combat, doing turns so tight their hulls scraped more then once, a chaotic dance over a mile above the surface. More then once their eyes locked as they passed each other, engines strained, guns overheating and steaming, finally relieved when they went lower and were caught in a rainstorm.

            "About time this fight was how it should be, Lombardi." Leon's voice remarked over the radio, the point of his fighter's longest wing drawing a thin scratch over Falco's hull, Falco turning his fighter to follow, inches between the fighters at most, shots missing by luck or something else.

            "It isn't my fault your team tends to gang up three-on-one." Falco growled, shields crying out when his fighter took a hit, diving into a u-turn to return it. Adrenaline made everything seem bright and sharp, it always did in a fight, more so when he and Leon butted heads. It had been like this for years, it would never stop. That was something he was sure of.

            "And that is why I led you away. So we can finish this on our terms. The terms we always had." Leon's voice took on an oily quality. "One on one, no assistance."

            The fight led them lower, darting back and forth through the rainstorm, guns flashing, still in a close-combat fight that would have shocked most expert pilots, fighters pressed to their limits.

            Falco jerked on the controls, and the wings of their fighters clanged harshly, nearly sheering both off, both spinning momentarily out of control, flying even lower. "You always were an honorable ass, you know that?"

            Leon laughed.

            That was the moment when something else moved in the rainstorm, and a huge flying form struck them, tentacles wrapping around both fighters. Both yelled in surprise when they saw the huge flying predator, which had somehow hidden in the cloud and rain, watching the smaller forms for a moment of distraction or weakness. Their reaction was the same, guns tearing into the creature, which shrieked at them in surprise, and threw their fighters down, disappearing back into the rain.

            Falco yanked on the controls of his arwing, trying to regain control as the world spun around him, damaged fighter plunging to the ground. The ET had damaged the structural integrity of his ship, crushing the wings. He had no ability to fly within an atmospheric environment. Swallowing his heart and keying up emergency eject maneuvers, he caught a glance of Leon's Wolfen, also falling, and saw the cockpit fly off his enemy's plane, Leon also ejecting. One last button pushed, and he as well as his emergency cargo hold was sent into the rain.

            An alarm went off in Fox's cockpit and he tore his eyes from his enemy's fighter, looking at his copilot display. A red X was flashing over Falco's insignia. He was down. Fox nearly went into a homicidal rage right there, until he noticed the small heart insignia at the bottom of the picture was still bright. Falco was alive.

            He broke off from the fight and called for a fall back into formation, mind racing. Down but still alive. That meant he had been shot out of the sky while in an atmospheric environment. He was on the planet. They'd have to try to find him, maybe even call in a search team from Corneria…

            "Falco's down." He said shortly to his two remaining wing mates. "But alive. I believe he has crashed on the planet."

            "Oh, lord." Peppy said, drawing a hand down his face. "Leon got him?"

            "They got each other." Wolf's voice said, apparently he had been listening in. "Leon is down as well. They're both alive."

            "Leave'im." Pigma said dismissively. "We don't need a bored torturer on our hands."

            There was a prolonged radio silence, the three members of Star Fox gathered by their cruiser, watching where the three remaining members of Star Wolf had gathered, hovering in a loose formation.

            Finally, Wolf said in a cold, clear voice, "Hopefully, my ears are mistaken, and you did not just suggest leaving a fallen comrade, Dengar." He brought up the command screen of his fighter, tapping in the code from memory, not sure if it was right. If he wasn't, he might send the command to the wrong fighter, but he didn't see a problem with it. No loss.

            "Comrade?!" Pigma laughed. "We're talking about a gay lizard that got joy in hurting people, boss. Not only that, the little bastard took double-pay, more then any of us, from Andross because he claimed to pull two jobs. I wouldn't care if he was _dead_ right now."

            "Gay?" Slippy asked no one in particular, and was ignored.

            "You know what, Pigma?" Wolf said, finger hovering over a button. "You've just made the biggest mistake in your life." His voice was hard and cold. "And now you're going to pay for it." He pressed the button down, not hesitating. He had been wanting to do this practically since he had joined Star Wolf.

            Pigma yelled in surprise when the engine of his fighter blew, the reactor going unstable and melting down within five seconds, drifting out of formation as life support was activated within his cockpit. "How did you…"

            "The commander always has self destruct keys to every fighter in the pack. It's to prevent backstabbing." Wolf replied, voice chill. "Go ahead and pick him up, Fox. Get him out of my sight before I kill him."

            "You got it. Thank you for saving us the trouble." Fox replied in an odd voice.

            "Wolf! You can't do this! You're turning him over to the enemy!" Andrew shouted, turning his fighter to look at Wolf's, who had drifted back at the same speed the Great Fox moved forward.

            "I am aware of this, Andrew. That's the point. Dengar is loyal only to money. We have none. We haven't had any for a while, and when that happens, Dengar starts backstabbing. Ask James McCloud about that."

            "James McCloud is dead."

            "Exactly. And we could have been." 

            Andrew frowned. "He is our wing mate, has been for over a year, and you take out his engines and turn him over without caring? Why the hell do I fly with you?!"

            "Simple. Your uncle told you to."

            Andrew screamed and charged, and Wolf brought his finger down on the button again, watching the damaged plane hurtle by him because of inertia, eventually slowing down and listing, engine blown like Pigma's had been.

            "Damn." Peppy said, gaping.

            "It's so hard to find good help these days." Wolf said with a bitter smile, flying farther away. "Pick him up as well. Sniveling brat…"

            "And what about you?" Fox asked, boosting his engines to fly past Andrew's crippled plane, toward Wolf.

            "I really don't know." Wolf said, fingering the controls, looking at the command now on his screen, set to blow his own plane. Death or dishonor? He let Fox get close and circle him, crossing his arms and staring at his controls so he wouldn't watch Fox's arwing and accidentally look him in the eye. "This ship isn't capable of warp, and my cruiser is blown. That planet is an incarnation of Hell. And I… don't particularly want to die, which is what will happen if I turn myself over to you."

            "Not necessarily." Fox replied, though not too certain of this.

            "I'm a traitor. I'll be given the death penalty." He paused. "Which, considering I am a mercenary in some forms, isn't very fair."

            There was a long pause, then Fox changed to Star Fox's private channel. "What do you guys think?"

            "He's a little nuts from stress is what I think." Slippy said. "And taking him on board would be a big mistake."

            "That's about our only option, besides leaving him here to run out of air." Peppy said slowly. "Do you think he'd negotiate…?"

            Fox swapped radio channels back. "Wolf, listen, give us your word you won't try anything, and we'll let you dock with the Great Fox under white flag for negotiations. All right?"

            There was a long pause as Wolf repeated this in his head. White flag? Why the hell would Fox offer him a white flag? After a long moment, he managed a weak, stressed smile. "All right, McCloud. All right."

            Falco released his parachute straps and snapped into a dive, plunging deep into the lake below him, surfacing moments later and looking around for shore. Lucky for him, it was only a short swim away, the water was rough, the storm still raging around him. He made it to the sandy beach as fast as he could, staggering and coughing a bit of water out of his lungs, wringing out his jacket in spite of the rain. After all the jacket was both rip-proof and waterproof, it'd help somehow.

            Once that was done he walked away from the beach and ducked under a tree branch, digging in his pockets and coming up with the transponder, which would show him the location of his crashed plane and cargo bay. He switched it on, and lifted an eyebrow when he saw extra blips on it. Leon?

            Well, that made this much more interesting then simply waiting to be picked up. He smiled grimly and started hiking, heading in the direction of his cargo bay. First off, supplies. Then, perhaps, the fight would continue.


	3. Chapter Three: By Myself

Chapter Three: By Myself

            Leon sighed in relief when the fire ignited, sitting back to he leaned on the heels of his hands, tilting his chin back so the sudden warmth bathed his entire front. Bliss. He had been cold since he had made his rough landing, and it had started to slow him down, and he knew to slow down in this hostile environment was to die.

            Luckily for him, the rain had slacked off now. The sun was just starting to disappear over the horizon, and he had found a small, sandy clearing to set up camp in. He had already pitched a tent, having bodily hauled his supply bay to this spot so he'd have easy access to it. Nothing in there would last more then a week, and he knew it, but he'd figure out how to adapt to this wild place, because he doubted anyone was going to pick him up.

            He crossed his legs, taking out his cards, which he had luckily zipped into a pocket of his waterproof coat, and shuffled slowly, the motion soothing him as he let himself slip into another state of mind, become in-tune. It was a strange hobby, and he knew it. Fortune-telling wasn't something you'd expect a professional torturer to do for fun, but he had been practicing for years, and he knew this deck of cards, and the cards knew him. He had had them since he had started. They were comfortable with each other.

            He sighed, and once he was in a clear state of mind slowly drew two cards, laying one on each knee. On the left was the Moon, on the right was the Knight of Wands. He frowned, rubbing his chin, tapping the Knight card thoughtfully. Who was this card referring to? Another card revealed itself to the two of Cups, and he groaned.

            If he understood this right, the cards were telling him something was happening and he was going to end up in a new relationship soon. Any other time he'd be fine with this, but he was in the middle of nowhere. He scowled at the Cups card, shuffled some more, and pulled one more. Six of Cups, reversed. So now he was in for a new relationship and ignorant of the past?

            He gathered the cards and zipped them back into his pocket, staring at the fire, letting himself be warm and trying to wipe the reading from his mind. He was tired, though he knew part of that had to be from being cold. Still, sleep would probably do him good… tossing some more wood on the fire he crawled into the tent and curled up, tucking his old revolver under his pillow and yawning. He'd try again tomorrow morning, when hopefully he'd figure out what to do about his situation.

            Falco hefted the pack and kept walking, looking at the transponder signal. Leon wasn't far away. Falco himself had spent the night somewhat poorly, and was now in a somewhat bad mood, having been unable to start a fire and slept soaking wet, curled up under a rocky ledge for shelter.

            He wasn't sure of the wisdom of tracking down his enemy. Hell, considering his situation, it might have been best to avoid him. But they hadn't gotten to finish their fight, they never did. Something always intervened. Maybe now they'd finally be able to get it over with.

            He sighed, staring up at the sky. He had found the wreck of his fighter, completely trashed. Not even the radio worked, which meant he was quite possibly stuck here for a while. And for what he saw, this was a wild planet in almost all ways. So far on the ground he had seen elephant-sized six-legged stags and strange predators large enough to easily hunt them. He felt small on this planet, that was for certain. Small and a little defenseless. He only had four clips for his gun total. God only knew how well it would chase off such large animals.

            Getting to the top of a hill, he saw a plume of smoke and smiled, knowing it had to be Leon. In a strange way, he looked forward to seeing his enemy. At least it would be someone and something normal.

            Leon woke up at dawn, crawling out of his tent and stretching, popping bones absently, and sleepily tried to figure out an agenda for the day. He didn't want to have to dip into his supplies yet, so he'd have to find an alternate source of food. That meant looking around and finding some.

            Once he had started a fire, he tucked his magnum into his belt and strapped his survival knife to his leg, then marked his campsite in his memory and started walking, making his way toward a creek he had seen the day before. If he remembered right, there were fruit trees of some sort there. As he walked, he looked at the trees, eventually stopping and breaking off a branch, then snapping it again so he had a six foot length about two inches thick. Eventually he'd sharpen it, for now, he simply walked with it.

            It had been a while since he had been on this pretty of a planet. It was wild and untamed, and he respected that. He liked that Lylat was leaving it alone. Some places just shouldn't be cultured, he decided.

            He arrived by the creek about ten minutes later, smiling when he saw some of the smaller herbivores look up at him in confusion, not knowing what he was. Even the small ones were the size of ponies here, arrayed with a crest of horns for defense, six legs shifting as they looked at him. Leaving the ponies to their drinking water, he climbed into one of the trees, and dropped down a few minutes later, shirt laden with fruit, a half-eaten blue thing hanging out of his mouth. He wasn't too worried about poison, it was good. Bitterness usually signified poison.

            He was halfway back to camp when he felt eyes on him, and paused, slowly looking to his right. He was a little surprised to see Falco leaning against a tree, arms crossed and watching him warily. He blinked, took what was left of his second fruit out of his mouth, and wove with a pair of fingers. Falco repeated the motion back to him, and Leon kept walking, mind in a tangle. So, Falco had survived the crash, and was stuck here as well. That made life more interesting… he slowed to a stop, and looked back. Falco hadn't moved. He sighed and wove a hand: come on over. Might as well get it over with…

            Falco saw the gesture and walked the forty or so feet to Leon, stopping six or seven feet away, hands settling to his hips. "Morning, Powalski." This came out strange and begrudging, hiding most of the anger that would have made his voice harsh and biting. But then again, how else to you great a longtime rival? 'Hi, how are ya, burn in hell'?

            "Lombardi. You're here too eh?" Leon took his last bite and pitched the core over his shoulder, still slowly processing this situation. He didn't bother masking the annoyance in his voice. How dare Lombardi screw up what he considered a vacation.

            "Looks like it." 

Leon stuck one of the fruit on the end of his stick and held it out to Lombardi, who took it and bit into it, lifting an eyebrow. "Yeah I know, they are pretty good. So. You tracked me down via radar or something?"

            "You're wearing a transponder of some sort." He held up the device in one hand, the other holding the blue fruit. 

            "Ah." Leon spat out a seed absently. "Guess this to mean we're continuing our little war?" He looked at his enemy, who seemed tired and worn, but had the same sparkle in his eyes, the never dimming hate that had always rubbed between them. He had to smile at that. He and Falco's rivalry was one of the few constant things in his life.

            "Do we ever stop?"

            "Point." He let his smile turn into a grin, shrugging out of his jacket and setting the fruit on it, tying the corners and sleeves to make a bag of sorts. "We'd both be idiots to continue our little war in this situation though."

            "True." Falco dropped his backpack to one side and popped his neck, stepping back into a more ready stance as he reached behind himself, pulling a survival knife from where the sheath was nestled in the small of is back. Trapped between his back and the bag, it had been invisible. He spun it through his fingers absently. It was heavier then the butterfly knives and switchblades that were so popular on the streets, which Leon and he had fought with for hours at a time, never able to strike a fatal blow, turning it into a deadly dance of steel. Both were famous in their gangs for their use of hand to hand combat and knives. "Guns?"

            "No." Leon said seriously, dropped his magnum on top of his food, watching as Falco did the same with his, dropping the entire belt on his pack. "There isn't any fun in that."

            The two settled into circling, knives tucked to wrists. It seemed surreal, they had done this a hundred, maybe a thousand times, in alleys and darkened streets, where flickering harsh florescence detailed the blade and their hard angry eyes, outlined their fighting forms as a few other members of either gang crouched in the shadows, watching silently, afraid to speak as it would break the spell. Now the alley was gone, as were those flickering lights, and somehow it was stranger for it.

            Falco attacked first, he almost always did. He had a lot less patience then Leon. Leon bent backwards, watching the blade pass over him, hissing through the air, and straightened once it was gone, countering, only to be blocked. The dance was started.

            Like it had been in the air, the fight was close, less then a foot and a half between them at almost all times, barely dodging each other's blades, drawing small nicks and cuts as they went. Blue feathers flew in the air as Leon's blade scuffed up Falco's left arm and took off a dozen or so primers, and Falco swallowed a gasp, trying to concentrate on the fight.

            Every time he fought with Leon, he felt like he was one breath away from dying. In the air, he could posture all he wanted, but like this—knife against knife, kicking up dust and grass—a real grain of icy fear worked its way through his veins, and he always ended up biting it back, trying to prevent it from spreading. He had seen what Leon could do, up close. Sure, Leon acted like some sort of gentleman, an act that always had several girls drooling over him, but in the end, he was a cold, efficient bastard, able to hurt people with a gut-retching precision. People under his blade always talked, and about half the time, they died as well. Talking didn't save you from Powalski's perversion.

            Leon blinked when Falco broke the fight, scrambling back a few steps and gasping for breath, knife up against his wrist in a defensive pose, chest heaving. Leon relaxed, knife held only loosely in his hand, and tilted his head to one side. This had to be one of their shortest fights ever. Why had Lombardi stopped?

            While the hatred between them had always been personal for Falco, for Leon it was more professional. They had never been on the same side, and during the gang wars both had participated in, Leon had tortured a few of Falco's friends. He knew it earned him fear and hatred, but it was what he did. It was a job he liked, and it got him some form of respect, which is more then a lot of people had. But it was that which had earned him the hate in Falco's gorgeous eyes.

            He shook off and flicked his tongue out, the soft hiss making Falco flinch ever-so-slightly. Sure, he could smell with his nose, but everything snapped into razor focus when he used his tongue in addition. "Lombardi. You're scared of me." He smiled when he said that, repeating the motion, savoring the scent and taste.

            "Any sane man would be." Falco snapped, taking another step back.

            "Ah, so, you chickened out in the fight? Is that it?" Leon took a few steps forward, toward Falco, letting himself sway through the step, almost dancing. One of his friends from years ago had called it a 'cobra walk.' Looking at it was hypnotic and terrifying.

            Falco stepped back for every one of Leon's steps forward. "No."

            "I don't believe you." He sheathed the knife, attempting to circle Falco, who just turned to face him, keeping his distance.

            "I'm ending this for now. I don't have a camp set." Falco finally said, refusing to look at Leon as he gathered his pack and started walking away, pausing after a few steps. "Guns are in." With that he was gone, walking back the way he had come.

            Leon stood there for a moment, and sighed. Guns weren't fun. They were simply too direct. There was no art to them. Point, bang, instant death. But the death wasn't the point, goodness no. It was the getting there. Why didn't anyone understand that?

            It did confirm something, though. Falco wanted him dead. It wasn't the fight he wanted, it was the end of the fight. And for some reason, that made him a little sad as he gathered the rest of his breakfast and returned to his camp, deep in thought.

            Falco snarled, striding through the field, grinding his beak in frustration. He couldn't believe that he had done that, actually come so close to snapping from his fear. He rubbed his eyes, shaking his head. He had been so sure he had been over it, then, in the middle of a knife fight, it had come rushing back, sending icy fingers through his veins. The memories of finding his friends dead/dying in the warehouse, Powalski's signature written in blood on the cold cement floor. Those horrifying moments were etched into his memory forever.

            Eventually he found a grove of trees and set up camp there, managing to start a fire and taking out some of his rations, sitting on the ground. He could never forgive Leon for what he had done, but for some reason, he could never shake the fear. And it didn't help that he always felt like Leon was looking at him like he was prey, like he was something to devour. He suppressed a shudder, and forced his thoughts to move on to strategy.

            Leon sighed, sprawling on his stomach on his sleeping bag, cards out in front of him. Nothing of interest had come up yet, though the cards had noted his feelings about the fight. He was used to things like that, though he scowled when the two of cups came back up. He took that as a cue and put the cards away, then rolled onto his back, letting his mind wander.

            So, the only other person on the planet wanted him dead. That was a lonely thought indeed. After a moment he took off his dog tags and stared at them, watching them spin. That was where the transponder was, and he knew it. He wasn't sure, but he got the idea Falco wasn't wearing one. People would be looking for Falco, not him. They'd leave him here to die, or pick him up if only to serve him is sentence. He winced, thinking about what it would it would be like, for him to be in jail. He didn't like the idea.

            He stared at the fire, which his tent faced, and in a single motion tossed the dog tags into it. To hell with Lylat. They could look for Lombardi all they wanted to, but they weren't getting him. He wouldn't mind dying on this planet. Dying surrounded by beauty was never a punishment.

            Wolf rubbed his upper arms absently, wandering down the corridor. This ship, this cruiser that belonged to his rival, was strange to him. He had gotten used to his cruiser, the marks of grease and welding from constant repairs during the war, the voices of his teammates. He could do without the voices of Pigma and Andrew, but he actually kind of missed Leon. Leon, in spite of his gruesome other job, had a beautiful voice, and a sense of humor that could cut you like a knife. Just the smaller man's presence was something, as he sat on the floor in a quiet corner, ignoring the world, his cards spread out in curious formations in front of him. Wolf had never doubted that Leon had had the gift, he had been right about so many things he could have known nothing about that it was stunning to listen to. 

            He paused, looking at a set of doors, and was about to reach for the button when ROB's voice came out of the nearest speaker. "That's engine access, Mr. O'Donnel. I only allow Slippy in there."

            "… Oh." He dropped his hand and, having come to a dead end, turned and started pacing back, rubbing the back of his neck. "Did my… former wing mates finally shut up?" He asked, looking at another speaker.

            "Not yet, they're discussing matters with each other. Peppy just finished rattling off the Miranda to them."

            Miranda? Oh. Their rights. Wolf grinned to himself, knowing that Peppy had to be the most patient person in the world to ignore the jeers and calmly run through it.

            "Bored?"

            He jumped and looked at where Fox was standing, having come around the corner, leaning his shoulder into the wall. As it always had, it dismayed Wolf that he was about an inch shorter then his rival, and was obscurely glad Falco wasn't present. That avian always made him feel like a dwarf. "Uncomfortable. I feel out of place here."

            Fox nodded once. "I can understand that."

            "So… uh, what's the plan?" He felt his ears press back, and fought the urge to fidget; wishing Fox would look somewhere, anywhere but at him.

            "We've called in. One of Corneria's flagships is going to meet us here in a few hours to pick up Pigma and Andrew. They're bringing a search team with so we can start looking for Falco and Leon."

            "… and me?"

            "You're under truce for now, so you're safe. They'll leave you alone as long as you're with us. It helps that you gave us those records you had in your fighter. Why'd you have them there anyway?"

            Wolf rolled his eyes. "About two weeks ago I decided Pigma was getting a little too edgy, so I deleted everything out of the cruiser's database and stored the only copy in my fighter. Figured that'd make it a little harder for him."

            "Well, that makes good sense." There was a long pause, during which Fox just looked at him, and Wolf looked everywhere else but not returning the gaze. "Why are you so nervous? You're not in any danger here."

            He only managed a shrug, not really trusting his voice. He was starting to wonder if he was really better of here then on the planet. At least on the planet he wasn't forced to socialize with someone who made him question everything about himself. The only person who ever had made him do so, in fact. What the hell was it about McCloud? There were people better looking, more charismatic, more intelligent out there. Hell he had met a few of them. And yet, if sunlight caught Fox right, when he turned to look at you, there was something… those eyes, that grin… he lit up. As if god had saved a shaft of sunlight just for one of his most beautiful creations. Music trailed through his head, and he hummed for a second, trying to rip himself from that train of thought. _Do I trust some and get fooled by phoniness, or do I trust none and live in loneliness?_

            Fox had about to say something else when Peppy came onto the intercom. "Fox, get up here right now. Our rendezvous was cancelled. We've got to go back."


	4. Chapter Four: A Place for My Head

Chapter Four: A Place for my Head

            "What do you mean, we're not getting a search team?" Fox shouted, hands curling into fists.

            "Something's happened back on Corneria. We get the idea it's something bad, but we haven't been told much. All we know is that we're needed there and that they can't spare a cruiser to rendezvous with us." Peppy replied, voice strange, looking away. "They're more then quadrupling the paycheck for us to come back. Time period is unknown."

            "But if we leave… Falco is stuck on that godforsaken planet." Slippy said.

            "And Leon. Though he'll survive." Wolf added, trying to keep his voice neutral.

            "We do NOT leave a fallen comrade." Fox snarled.

            "Check your own definitions. 'Fallen' suggests dead or wounded." ROB said, bringing up the loose rules of Star Fox on one of the screens. Fox growled at the robot. "Falco is alive and well, and we'll still be able to keep tabs on his life signs while in Lylat. There will merely be a delay."

            There was a long silence, then Fox snarled. "I don't like it. We're still leaving him. Even if we know he's ok… and we don't even know that. He could be in a coma from the crash, even."

            "I doubt that." Peppy said, setting a hand on Fox's shoulder. "This is Falco we're discussing, Fox. He's stubborn. He can survive a few days."

            "And if it takes longer then days?"

            No one had an answer to that.

            "I don't want to leave him…" Fox said in a helpless voice, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand and ducking his head. "He'd never forgive us, guys…"

            "All transponders are out. We have no idea where on the planet they went down, so we'd have to comb the entire thing, since we don't have the equipment to do it. It'd take at least a week." ROB said very patiently. "We need a search team to find Falco, and to get that search team, we need to go back and find out what the problem is."

            Fox slumped into his chair, hugging himself and refusing to look at anyone. "I agree to this under protest. But if we come back and Falco isn't alive…" He left that open, but everyone felt the threat. If Falco died because of the delay, it'd be the fault of their government, not Star Wolf, and Fox would not spare the bullets in his resulting payback run. Honor and revenge rarely went together, but Fox always made it work.

            The others slowly settled into chairs, glancing at their Commander, who still refused to look at them. Wolf, awkwardly sitting by one of the weapons stations, watched Fox with worried eyes. He understood, because if anything, one of his friends was being left as well.

            The cruiser leapt into warp, the roar of the engines the only noise on the ship.

            Falco walked slowly, watching the ground warily. On such a virgin world, it was fairly easy to note where he and Leon had gone, even though they weren't doing anything destructive. He was no tracker, but he could tell Leon's ambling walk as it cut a softly waving line through the knee-high grasses.

            He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. This was just too surreal. Had they been in a city, walking alleyways, stalking each other, it would have just been another day in his life, and he would have been fine. But now, with sunlight beating down on his back and soft dirt and grass under his boots, everything seemed a bit out of place. Especially since the fight had progressed to guns. It had been his choice, of course, but he wasn't sure if it was a good idea. He just didn't want to be close to Leon again. The very thought made him shudder, partly from fear, partly from something he wasn't sure he understood. 

            He jumped when he heard the crack of a gun, staggering back and looking down at the place that used to be right in front of him. Two hissing holes were in evidence. Leon had gotten the drop on him. He looked around, saw no one, and made a break for the nearest cover, which was a stand of trees. A few of the small six-legged ponies he had seen the day before startled and ran as he plowed through and ducked behind a tree, composing himself. Where had Leon been shooting from? Obviously a good hiding spot, as Falco hadn't seen him at all. Then again, the bastard could change color fairly fast.

            He had moved to the edge of the treeline and was looking for a vantage point when a thick staff cracked him across the back of his skull, and he cried out, crumbling forward as fireworks exploded in front of his eyes and he slid into unconsciousness. Only then did Leon slide down from the tree, leaning on his soon-to-be spear and looking down at his crumbled enemy. "Idiot." He whispered, crouching down and brushing his fingertips across the mark he had left. "Did you really think that I would stoop to using guns?"

            It took Leon half an hour to get the taller, heavier avian back to his campsite, luckily Falco didn't wake up during that awkward journey. Once there he lowered Falco to the ground next to the fire, tied his hands at the wrist, and saw about getting something to eat, munching on one of the fruit as he sat on the sandy ground, staring thoughtfully at his captive. It was a sin, he finally decided, shaking his head, that someone who was so much a jerk could be so soft and innocent when asleep. Part of the fruit still hanging out of his mouth, he took his cards out and started shuffling, then on an impulse pulled out the Knight of Wands, setting it on the dry ground softly and looking over at Falco, then after a moment reversed it. One mystery down: the card was representing Falco, and it fit. Thoughtful, but angry and withdrawn.

            Card after card played out after that, each piece slipping into the puzzle and fitting flawlessly. Nothing he could be completely sure of until he decided to ask, but it did work. A neglected childhood, before he had met Leon, then the fights. He got the idea that Falco was depressed lately, very depressed. And alone: from what he could tell, Katt had left Falco fairly recently. When he reached the future, he hesitated, flicking his tongue out in thought. He never liked looking at the future without having that person's permission, but…but… oh, hell. Like Falco would ever agree anyway. He tossed two final cards down, and nearly passed out when he felt his head go light.

            The lovers, neutral, and the two of Cups.

            Surely the cards didn't think…? That they…?

            He moaned, feeling ill, looking across the fire at his prisoner, who seemed to be breathing lighter: he'd be waking up soon. He forced himself to look away, swaying, deep in thought. He'd never really thought about that, after all, whenever they met they ended up locked in combat, trying to kill each other. Besides, Falco only dated girls and broke the noses of those who questioned his alignment.

            He doubted that Falco had even noticed his rival's alignment. Leon couldn't help it really, it was just the way he was and he enjoyed it. Of course, it wasn't like the two had ever sat down over drinks and had a long talk about their relationships. As to that, Leon hadn't had that many relationships anyway. Most people just thought he was too scary to bother with and didn't try to see his other sides. So Leon had passed his time alone, his short relationships only a vague comfort. But then, the way he understood it, Falco wasn't too much different.

            "All right, General. This had better be good." Fox scowled across the desk, arms crossed and ears pinned back. 

            "Drop the attitude for a few minutes and listen with a clear head." Pepper instructed, looking haggard. "We have recently made discoveries that more of the Venomian forces are alive then we thought."

            "Oh? Where are they then?" He tilted his head to one side, thoughtfully. Maybe they did have reason to call him back.

            "That's the problem. They're within our own military. We've found records that suggest at least the majority of one cruiser turned coat during the war, but never did anything to arouse suspicion. The problem is, we don't have names, which means there are potentially over a thousand supporters of Venom in places that we can't let them be."

            "Damn." Fox was quiet for a few moments. "And what am I supposed to do?"

            "Help us track down who's not on our side and get them out of top-secret areas. We can't arrest without proof, but we can at least make sure no damage is done. You're probably one of the best people to help us."

            "What, because I'm Venom's worst enemy?"

            "That, and you have a former Venomian on your cruiser." Pepper's voice turned wary. "Coming to that… is he behaving?"

            "Wolf? Been a perfect gentleman. Nervous, but he hasn't done anything or said anything to make us suspicious. I'm starting to wonder if he was really in favor of Venom, or just getting a decent paycheck. I'll talk to him for help with this if I need it." Fox stood. "Where do you want me to start?"

            "Well, we've already removed all military personnel from Arspace… Start at our local ground base, we have a lot of projects there. You're good at seeing things that are wrong before anyone else does." Pepper was carefully not looking at Fox. "That said, keep an eye on Wolf."

            Fox walked to the door, and paused, hand on the knob. "Keep in mind, General. Being you're the man that made me leave my best friend behind, I probably won't take your advice." With that he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him softly.

            "Venomians within the Cornerian Military?" Peppy's eyebrows lifted. "That is serious."

            "Yes indeed, and we get to help root them out." Fox said dryly, sitting on one of the many computer panels on the bridge. ROB, used to it, had locked the keys out so nothing could get damaged. "I know where Pepper wants us to start, but I'm not sure how he wants us to do this. Just look around, I guess. Do some digging."

            "If they're Venomians, they'll want a leader." Wolf's voice startled everyone, and they looked over at where he was standing, leaning against the wall. "We could always use my existence as bait. Draw them in like the cult they are."

            "That's too damn dangerous, Wolf." Slippy protested. "And that might kill your chances of a pardon."

            "If it isn't real, why would it?" Wolf asked. "I don't want anything to do with Venom anymore, I was stabbed far to many times in the back thanks to Andross. But if word isn't out yet that I'm with you guys, why not just play it cool and use that to our advantage?"

            There was a long silence. Fox rubbed his chin, shaking his head. "Look, Wolf, let us do some scouting first, all right? If it comes down to it, we'll go through with it, but in the mean time, it's much too risky. You could get yourself killed. No one else knows you're on our side now."

            "That's what disguises are for. I'll need to see about getting a fake eye, though." This was more to himself, absent-minded.

            Slippy choked. "There's… there's actually an empty socket under that patch?"

            Wolf gave him a 'are you really that slow' look, and looked mildly surprised when Slippy gagged and nearly got sick right then and there. "Sorry. I won't mention it again."

            "Why the hell leave it empty though? That's got to be a place for infection to come through." Peppy frowned.

            "Well, you know what they say old man. In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king."

            Falco woke up with a start, eyes snapping open and looking around. He was laying on his side in the sand, wrists bound in front of him. He had apparently been out for a few hours, because most of the light was being cast by a fire. The back of his head hurt like a bitch, pounding with every heartbeat. His whole body lurched with nausea for a second from the rush of lifting it, and he lowered it for a second, gaining control of himself again.

            "About time you woke up." Leon remarked, sitting lotus style on the other side of the fire, fingertips pressed together, looking at him thoughtfully.

            The casually smooth voice of his enemy jolted him, and he sat up, scowling across the fire at Leon. "You didn't kill me. I'm stunned."

            "I have no reason to kill you." Leon studied his nails, voice neutral. 

"We're enemies. You have every reason to kill me." He frowned.

"Believe what you may." '_Even if I was going to, I'd want to figure out what the cards meant first.' He thought, then stood and walked over, kneeling beside Falco. "Sit still." He instructed, lifting his hands._

Falco jerked away, bound hands up in a defensive position. "Get away from me."

"I want to check your bump." Leon set his hands on his hips, sighing heavily. "I had to hit you quite hard to knock you out. That hard head of yours is good for some things, like protection."

"Screw yourself. I don't want you near me. I know what you can do to people, even without your torture chambers."

He sighed and stood, pacing back around the fire. He was wearing his uniform pants and a tank top, boots off and sitting next to the entrance to his tent, claws hissing through the sand softly. His scales glittered a bit thanks to the firelight, and the extensive tribal tattoos on his arms stood out more, boldly black. "Rumors are nasty things."

"I've seen your work in person, Powalski. You know as well as I that they aren't rumors. You get off on hurting people."

"Perhaps." He narrowed his eyes at his captive, letting the confusion and emotion of earlier fade away into the back of his mind. "You're mouthy for a prisoner."

"And I've got what to lose?"

Their eyes locked, and Falco felt his feathers slowly bristle, a shiver going down his spine. There was no such thing as winning a staredown against Leon Powalski. His eyes were too cold, too barren of caring. "You've got plenty to lose, Lombardi."

Falco tore his eyes away, tucking his arms to his chest, feathers still on end. "What the hell made you so cold?"

That seemed to catch Leon off guard. "I'm a cold-blooded species."

"I've known other cold-bloods. They aren't like you."

There was a long silence, then Leon shrugged. "Life did, though I don't see how it's any business of yours. Get some sleep. Tomorrow I want to see where your ship wrecked, and where you're keeping your supplies."

"Like hell I'm telling you that."

"You will." Leon said with certainty, settling down in his tent in a way that he could watch Falco, stretched out on his stomach, chin propped on arms.

"You know that I won't be here in the morning."

"Only if you're more stupid then I think you are. I saw some large predators last night. They only stayed away because of the fire. How much do you want to bet that they think we're prey?" He sighed and let his eyes flutter shut slowly, relaxing muscle by muscle. The fact that his old enemy was only a yard or two away didn't bother him, because he knew that Falco had enough honor that he wouldn't attempt something stupid.

Falco watched Leon doze off, wondering if that had been a bluff. Probably not, he had seen his share of the large creatures as well. Either way, Leon had never been this trusting, at least not that he remembered. He looked around at the equipment, and after seeing that a radio setup was absent, sighed. Either way, they were both stuck on this godforsaken planet for now.

He curled up in the sand, tucking his tied wrists to his chest since he wasn't able to hug himself, which was honestly what he wanted to do. Leon was just too close for comfort, even if he had already expressed that he had no intention of hurting his would-be prisoner. 

Leon opened his eyes to slits, waiting until Falco was asleep, then stood again, walking over silently and kneeling to check over the bump, brushing feathers aside. No long term damage, at least. He froze when Falco stirred slightly, relaxing when his prisoner relaxed again, brushing his fingertips over a scar that crossed Falco's left eye. A scar he had given, and that Falco would always carry. It was thin as a razor, a soft white line breaking the night-blue of his feathers.

He had been kneeling there a few minutes when he realized what he was doing and drew his hand away, returning to his tent. He needed to sleep, he told himself, settling down again in the same position as before, poking the fire with a stick he kept nearby for the purpose. If anything, so he could wake up before Falco and not have problems in the morning.

            Falco sighed, walking back down the path he had blazed between his and Leon's camps, casting side-glances at his smaller captor. His hands were still loosely tied, he now had eight inches of strong cord between them. It didn't make him any happier. Leon had both their guns, and was using a rough spear as a walking stick: he guessed that was what had cracked him across the skull the day before. He briefly pondered the chances of overpowering Leon, then dismissed it. The smaller man was faster, just as strong, and had a lower center of gravity. Falco's tied hands were simply too much of a hindrance to bother.

            They arrived in the little clearing, and Falco gaped. His camp was shredded, and he guessed that whatever did the damage had had large claws and teeth. The remains of the tent had been drug over ten feet. The metal case of rations, though, was unbroken, though it had been drug through the campsite.

            "Looks like something got here before we did." Leon said, eyes narrowing, slipping the spear between his back and the pack he wore. "Looks like you got off lucky, Lombardi… By the size of these tracks, this thing had to be bigger then a rhino." He glanced over the campsite, and quickly came to the conclusion that the only things worth salvaging was what was in the lockbox. He easily picked it up. "Let's get back to my campsite…" Seeing Falco's look, he frowned. "What?"

            "I have trouble carrying that thing…"

            "Then you're not carrying it right. The knees, not the back."

            "Oh, please, you sound like a phys-ed teacher." Falco snorted.

            "Psh. Come on. It doesn't feel safe here."

            They doubled back, Falco walking beside Leon, who barely slowed down while carrying the box. It boggled Falco's mind, there wasn't that much visible muscle on the shorter man, yet he hefted the awkwardly-shaped hundred-pound lockbox with ease. He sighed, watching his captor out of the corner of his eye. Leon wasn't even making an effort to keep an eye on him.

            "Why are you so trusting?" He wanted to know as their feet hit sandier soil, now in the entrance of the little clearing Leon was using. "You've got no reason to trust me."

            "I have no reason not to trust you. We're both out of our element, therefore, we have to trust each other at least a bit. We'll live longer if we do."

            "And yet…" Falco held out his bound wrists.

            "You'll go for your gun in a second if I let you go right now, and don't argue that. Maybe once you mellow out I'll cut you loose." He kept his voice mild, glancing at Lombardi, catching his prisoner's eyes in the process. Falco was watching him, and it made him feel self-conscious somehow. The height difference didn't help, what was for sure. He turned his eyes back down to the metal case, which was marked with an assortment of dents. Teeth marks, he realized. It seemed the creature had marked it with musk or something as well, because he could smell the wild scent floating off it, not as strong as it had probably been last night, but still there. He let it drift through his nostrils, listening to the birds around him, then blinking when he realized that they weren't singing anymore.

            He froze, turning his eyes back and forth, mind racing. It was morning, but the sun was up. He had been assuming a nocturnal predator had hit Falco's camp, but what if he was wrong? Had it been during the day? Either way, the creature had marked the chest as his, and the scent was strong enough his nose caught it. He hissed in annoyance, flicking his tongue out, ignoring Falco's gape as he tasted the scent, rolled it over his tongue. At least sixteen hours old. It had been a daytime attack.

            And he was holding what the beast had marked.

            "Leon? Leon? Corneria calling Leon." Falco said, gradually increasing volume.

            "Shh! Shut up!" Leon said, turning his head and flicking his tongue out again, shivers clutching at his spine. "Dig up your city senses and force them to listen. Are we being watched?"

            Falco frowned, then felt the icy finger up his spine. "Feels like it, but there isn't anything out here to watch us."

            He hissed again. "How strong is this lock?"

            "Heavy duty. Airtight. Why?"

            "Run. Run straight for my campsite. Now." Leon's tongue snaked out again, tasting the scent, brand new this time, on the wind. Crap, they were being hunted. "NOW!" He shouted, and Falco staggered backwards as Leon spun, swinging the case up with enough force to knock someone's head off as a huge six-legged carnivore left its hiding place and landed practically on top of Leon. The box connected, snapping off one of the beast's horns at the base, which only seemed to anger it more as Leon slipped under it and away, tossing away the light pack and twirling his spear, grinning without humor.

            Falco scrambled backwards a few more steps, watching as Leon used the spear to fault of the way of the beast's lunge, then spun and drove the spear into the thing's rear. He doubted that Leon would find that thing's weak spot without getting hurt. Was he going to let that happen? He watched unmoving, then sprinted and grabbed the discarded pack, fighting with the catches to get it open, at last finding his knife. No gun? He cussed, Leon must have left it at his campsite. Oh well…

            Leon had just ripped his spear free in passing when he heard another war cry, snapping his head around to see Falco leaping through the air, landing on the monster's back and digging in his combat knife to the hilt. The monster roared and turned on itself, snapping at Falco's legs, who responded by kicking hard enough to knock out a bloodstained tooth out of the struggling carnivore's mouth, keeping himself in place by wrapping the rope connecting his wrists around the planted hilt of the knife.

            Leon dove, sliding on his stomach in the dust and rolling, thrusting upward mindlessly, turning his head to avoid blood as he drove the spear in. He heard Falco cry out as the beast struggled, and yelped as one of the huge claws connected with his shoulder, both gashing and kicking him out of the way, vision blurring as he watched Falco dodge snapping jaws, loosing feathers in passing, finally shoving his knife home into the beast's throat.

            Silence followed the chaotic noise, and Falco stumbled over, rope ends dangling as he had just cut himself loose, knife loosely held in one hand. "Powalski." He said, dropping to his knees beside the smaller man. "You still alive?"

            Leon smiled weakly, struggling to sit up, gesturing at his shoulder. "Yeah… dunno for how much longer…"

            Falco sighed, standing back up. "Ever ride piggyback?"

            "What…?" He watched Falco haul the battered box and backpack back over, grunting as he set the box down, accepting the pack back.

            "You owe me one hell of a shoulder massage. I'm going to be carrying both you and this god damn box."

            Leon tried to keep a straight face, but it dissolved into a gale of adrenaline-rushed laughter. "Looks like I didn't have to cut you loose after all."

            "Yeah, whatever. You're still a jerk."


	5. Chapter Five: Forgotten

Chapter Five: Forgotten

            Wolf leaned his head against the mirror for a second, then sighed and dug the box out of his pocket, pushing his eyepatch up. He had known people who had called putting in contacts "putting in their eyeballs," well, now he was doing it literally. He sucked air through his teeth at the sudden cold, blinked a few times, and stared at his reflection. Well, props for the doctors and their talent for realism. Instead of an ugly empty socket, now two cool blue eyes looked back at him instead of just one. Sure, he could only see through one, he thought as he pocketed the eyepatch and combed his fingers through his fur, taking out the crease that came from longtime wear of the patch, but he doubted that anyone would recognize him now. The eyepatch was famous, therefore, that was all people recognized.

            Fox, who was leaning next to the door with his arms crossed, looked up when the door opened, smiling at Wolf. "All set?"

            "This feels strange." Wolf looked at him face-on, blinking rapidly as he got used to it. "But I guess this is for the best."

            "Mm." Fox replied, rubbing his chin and considering Wolf. The only real difference of course was the lack of the patch, and yet, there seemed like a major change had happened. "I don't think I ever remember seeing you with two eyes."

            "I lost this eye a long time ago." He sighed, wandering to the ship's galley, bare feet padding silently down the metal corridor.

            "How did you loose it anyhow?" Fox followed a few steps behind him, noticing the black straps of the eyepatch trailing out of Wolf's back pocket.

            He was silent for a while, digging into the fridge and after a few minutes taking one of the sodas, popping it open absently. How had he lost the eye? Did he even remember? He sighed, rolling over the many fights of his child hood in his mind, looking for details. Many of his memories were fuzzy, and he was forced to remember the many different concussions he had incurred during his teenage years. "The loss of use for this eye was rather gradual. I got in a few fights, and it was about half-blinded. Because of that, well, I lost some peripheral vision and took a switchblade through my eye in the fight afterward."

            Fox choked. "Oh, my god."

            "His almighty self decided that the wound would not be fatal." He shrugged. "That was my last street fight for quite some time."

            Something clicked in his mind, and he lifted both his eyebrows, leveling a finger at Wolf. "All those stories about you cage fighting and whatnot are true?"

            "I've only been in three cage fights. I won all three. Made some good money on them, too." He tossed a hand as if to brush it off. "Most of my fights were in alleyways and such, just grudgematches, but people still bet on them."

            "Why?"

            That startled him, and he gaped at Fox for a good five seconds. "Why what?" He sputtered, slugging back the rest of the soda. 

            "Why did you put yourself through all that?"

            They looked at each other for several long moments, and Wolf felt a shiver pass up his back, fur standing on end, wanting to squirm under his former enemy's gaze. 

            "I guess that I had no better option." Wolf finally said, and turned away, not wanting Fox to see how weak he was.

            Fox twisted his ears around in thought, and glanced over his shoulder at Peppy, who was hesitating in the doorway, apparently coming in for a drink but stopping at the conversation. Peppy made a gesture of general support, and Fox in a sudden move grabbed Wolf's shoulder and spun him around, keeping the hand there, fingers tightening just slightly. "Listen to me. You have a better option now. Don't you EVER put yourself through anything like that again. Do you understand me?"

            Wolf gaped again, for a second instinctively ducking and twisting away, then freezing, hackles lifting, not angry, just bewildered. "I, uh… um… yeah. Yeah, uh… I guess so. Is that, uh, and invitation? For me to stay here?"

            "Whether or not you're on this team is not decided and probably won't be for a while, if that's what your asking. But you certainly have me covering your back if that's what's needed."

            "As will I." Peppy said, folding his arms over his chest. "And I'm sure Slippy will as well, once he's not as afraid of you."

            Wolf made a small helpless noise, ducking his head to hide his confusion, finally lifting a hand to cover Fox's. "Ok. Ok. Thank you."

            Leon lifted his head, watching as Falco walked into the campsite carrying firewood, the hatchet from his survival kit tucked in his belt so the shaft lightly thumped his leg. "No more weird predators?"

            "Not thus far." Falco replied. "Looks like our victory spread the word, since it's been over a week." He sighed, dumping the firewood a few feet from the fire and sitting hard, head ducked, combing his fingers through his feathers wearily. "I'm starting to wonder if they're ever going to find us…"

            "I'm starting to wonder if they're even looking." Leon sat up with effort, fighting the urge to rub his still-bandaged shoulder, shuffling his cards slowly. "Though I imagine someone will come for you eventually. Your teammates care a lot for you."

            "I note you don't include yourself in the rescue." Falco tossed a log on the fire.

            "I'm not sure I want to be. Nothing waits for me on Corneria except one big fat death penalty for treason." He sighed. "Besides, I like it here. It's rough and wild, but it is rather pretty."

            "Pretty?" Falco gave him a strange look, then shrugged. "I guess it is, but I'd prefer a city."

            There was a moment of silence, and Leon reached out to turn their makeshift rotisserie. If anything was an advantage on this planet of supersized critters, it was the fact that one fish or rabbit equivalent fed them both very well. "We need pepper."

            Falco laughed softly. "We need an entire spice rack."

            "You cook?"

            "I microwave."

            Now it was Leon's turn to laugh. "So who on the Great Fox cooks?"

            "On the rare occasion it's needed? Peppy. He's the only one who can." He frowned a bit, seeing Leon grab his shoulder. "How is that?"

            "Not so good." He forced himself to admit. "It stings really badly."

            "Let me take a look…" Falco stood and circled the fire, sitting down next to Leon and unwrapping the bandages once Leon had pulled off his shirt, looking at the intricate tattooing for the fifth or sixth time. Whoever Leon had hired had been an expert. Thorny, blood-red roses done in tribal style twisted into a design across the small of his back, then up his spine to become a pair of wings across the shoulders, wrapped his sides to trail around his belly button, then continued down his arms into more patterns. Only black, red, and white were shown in the tattoo, colors that didn't change when Leon's skin did.

            Leon sucked his breath in when air hit his wound, and Falco did the same when he saw it. The gash was just, well, nasty. It wasn't deep, but Leon had lost some flesh when he had gotten it, and their meager medical supplies made it hard to tend to such a wound. "How bad?"

            "Not good. NOT pretty."

            "Har de freakin' har. Is it infected?"

            "I… don't think so." Falco frowned at the bandages. "But I get the idea I should burn these…"

            "Then do so." He made a long arm and managed to reach the medical kit they were currently using, handing it over his good shoulder to Falco. "So if it's not infected…"

            "It's become inflamed. About a quarter of your back is swollen as all hell." He chewed his lower beak, thoughtful and a bit worried. The wound was the size of his hand, and while the shots he had used out of the kits had probably helped, it was going to be a while before it healed completely. "You need an emergency room, not someone with one lousy class in field medic. Hell, you're the anatomy expert here."

            "All from reading I assure you. Swollen? … ok, look, I can give you a play-by-play, but you'll probably not like it."

            "Shoot."

            "You're going to have to lance it. Heat your knife up in the fire so it's clean. Once it's clean and bandaged after that, it should heal faster."

            "You're right. I don't like it. But you're the one who'd know." He stood, going to the safe box where his knife was, and hesitated. "You'll have to get part of your tattoo redone, by the way."

            Leon laughed grimly. "That's all right. That just means I have an excuse to add on."

            "Lunatic."

            "Wise ass."

            Falco sharpened a spear absently, watching Leon, now his only companion, jump easily from stone to stone, watching huge fish dart beneath the water. They had just started the third week of their abandonment on this feral planet, and they had settled into what seemed to be a routine. Leon was better at hunting, for whatever reason, so he was often the one who caught their main courses, leaving Falco the peaceful if neverending task of picking fruit and vegetables. Strangely, Falco's diet was better on this planet then it had been for over a year in civilization.

            "You know, I've been thinking…" Leon remarked, standing with his weight on two different stones, the spear up and ready, eyes darting as he watched the fish. His color was altering even as he stood there, changing gradually to a mottled green and brown, visible skin blending with the tree branches that hung over the river. "We might want to start figuring out what to do about storing food."

            "Storing food? We don't exactly have a fridge." Falco frowned. "You foreseeing a shortage of fish?"

            "I'm foreseeing winter." Leon grunted, striking down and hitting meat, bracing against the force of a fifteen pound, pissed-off fish. Falco waded into the knee-deep water and helped as he could. "This planet seems to have a somewhat Cornerian season cycle, and we're now in late summer."

            "That gives us how long? Three months?"

            "I'm guessing less. The days here are a bit shorter, like twenty-two hours instead of twenty-four." He sighed, following Falco to the shore, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. "In the event we're stuck here that long, we can't depend on any of this food being available, so we'll have to stock up."

            "Well, we don't have a freezer, so what's the plan? Dry a lot of it?" Falco cleaned the fish, tossing the parts they didn't use to the fish still in the river.

            "Or smoke it, yes. That said, we're going to need better shelter too. A tent won't be much shelter from snow."

            They walked back in silence, easily pacing each other. Leon stole a glance at his new friend, noticing that for once, Falco had stopped slouching, and literally towered over him by about a head and a half. He wasn't holding the spear right, holding it more like it was a tire iron or other street weapon.

            "You know what I miss the most?"

            He blinked, color moving to a brighter, curious green. "What?"

            "Music." Falco smiled sheepishly, twirling the spear back and forth in front of himself. "I mean, we're both inner city kids. Music practically bleeds off the streets in the city. Cars, apartment windows, boom boxes, just people singing, there's always music everywhere."

            Leon smiled, mind wandering back into the past for a few seconds. "I guess you're right. Missing your stereo and CDs, eh?"

            "And my bike. And my apartment…" Falco sighed as they entered their campsite, luckily unharmed by predators. Of course, the horns of the beast they had fought hanging on a stick by the fire might have just been a good enough warning.

            "Inner city ethnic food. God, it's been so long since I've had anything like that…" Leon sighed, taking the fish and filleting it absently.

            "Street parties. Pizza." Falco countered with a smile, shaking his head. "God. I never thought in my life that I would be homesick for what was once poverty."

            "Oh, bah. Your family was never that far down the money ladder…" He trailed off, seeing he had struck a nerve when Falco looked away. "Uh. Sorry."

            "No. No, you're right. We were never that high-up either, and my dad always took it out on my mom and me." He sat down, stoking the fire up, staring into it. "The classic tale of the rebellious teenager, taking his angst out everywhere, nearly flunking school, and somehow getting off lucky."

            "I take it that's the Star Fox team." Leon said this to himself, touching the card deck in his pocket. Sometimes, it sucked to be right.

            "Just Fox, actually…" He trailed off, hugging his knees to his chest, and seemed to tune out the world.

            Leon looked at Falco, and felt a pang off sympathy pain deep in his chest, knowing what it was like, knowing how much it hurt to have to run like a bat out of hell from your past just so you could survive. Falco didn't deserve it either, and Leon knew it. There was a battered innocence that Falco hid, deep inside, a small scared child that would never grow up. For all the cards hinted at, Leon was stunned Falco's personality hadn't sundered and become their own entities, leaving the owner only a few steps from declarable insanity.

            "What are you staring at?"

            Leon jolted back to reality, and saw Falco looking back at him with a touch of hostility. Sighing, he turned back to their late lunch, and after a while started whistling, a high, strange tune. It was only then that Falco smiled and started humming, and a few minutes later both were sputtering and butchering German lyrics, laughing heartily.

            Fara sprinted up the ramp of the Great Fox's docking bay and pounced on Fox, the pair hugging for several moments, laughing a little. Eventually Fox put Fara down, and she grinned, crossing her arms. "About time the government gave you visiting rights. How went the mission?"

            "Not good." Fox's face fell. "Falco got left behind. He's marooned on the planet, and the government won't give us a search team unless we help them figure out their problem."

            She blanched. "Holy crap. Is he all right?"

            "His health transponder is still reading clean, so he's alive and decently healthy at least. There's like a six-hour delay on the transmissions now though." Fox sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

            She thought about it, then smacked him. "That had to be what, nearly a month ago?! Why didn't you tell me, you…"

            Slippy, who was under one of the arwings working on it, burst into giggles, glancing at Wolf, who was sitting nearby, passing him tools. "God, I love watching him get whipped." He admitted quietly, grinning insanely before turning back to his work.

            "That's his girlfriend I take it?" Wolf asked, giving the new arrival an once-over. "She looks tough."

            "Oh, god yes. Tough as nails. But he needed someone like that, in my opinion, being that he's so loud. They've been together almost a year now."

            He felt a spur of obscure jealousy at that, tearing his eyes away from the pair with effort. He was slowly going used to Fox's company, and was now able to carry on conversation without getting jittery, but he also felt a bit attached. Fox was trying to make sure he didn't get jailed for treason, and for that, Wolf was grateful. "So how long are you guys stuck on this mission?"

            "Peppy's getting names right now, he's good at that sort of thing. After that, it's just weaseling the guilty parties out. That's where you come in, if you're still going through with it."

            "Of course…"

            "Hey! Wolf! Come here a minute!" Fox hollered across the bay, and Wolf winced and stood, walking over to where Fox and Fara stood, thumbs hooked into the corners of his pockets. "I'm sure you remember Wolf O'Donnel, Fara." Fox continued. "He's a friend of ours now, believe it or not."

            Fara lifted her eyebrows, gaze lifting up and down briefly. Jeans and a t-shirt, no eye patch. The only things that spoke of military training were combat boots and a straight posture. "No kidding. I'm Fara Phoenix, pleased to meet you." She held out her hand, and Wolf shook it easily. "How did you manage getting on this team's good side?"

            "Let's just say that Fox and I came to an agreement." Wolf replied, hands automatically going to parade rest. "Phoenix? That name is familiar…"

            "My dad runs a number of tour and pleasure space yachts." She replied frankly. "Not for me, I assure you. I work for the combat testing division of Arspace."

            He grinned. "Kick ass."

            That made her chuckle. "If you don't mind me asking, um…" She gestured a bit at his eye.

            "Fake. I lost it years ago."

            "We decided we didn't like him running around with an empty socket. Slippy almost threw up a few times, even if he was wearing the patch." Fox inserted, half-smiling.

            "This is strange. You two were the poster-children of the war, as far as bitter rivalries go." Fara set her hands on her hips, looking back and forth between them. Both were casually dressed, both had returned to parade rest because of habit, and they were nearly the same height—she was stunned to see that Wolf was actually shorter then Fox was. Both were blue-eyed, and had fairly similar builds. "How much do you two weigh?"

            "Uh, why?" Wolf frowned.

            "160." Fox replied. "Yeah, heavy for my height, but it's muscle." He looked at Wolf, who frowned again. "Oh, it's not like you're a girl."

            "Sod off McCloud." He grumbled, and sighed, rolling his eyes. "Like, 152 at last weigh in, why?"

            "Amazing." She shook her head. "If we dyed one of your fur colors to the other, you could be fricking twins. Seriously. You should go as each other for Halloween, freak the entire town out."

            "Take that back!" Wolf sputtered, but Fox laughed hard, shaking his head.

            "Is that a bad thing really?" Fox asked. "So we have a lot alike. It's not all that surprising, considering."

            Wolf didn't answer, returning to help Slippy, deep in thought.


	6. Chapter Six: My December

Chapter Six: My December

            Leon shivered, shouldering the hiking pack and watching as Falco easily did the same, looking around to make sure nothing was left behind then picking up the bound poles that had turned the now-heavy metal case into a sled of sorts. After a slow month and a half of trying to build up their food stock, it was becoming apparent that this planet had a fast orbit around its sun. Already leaves swirled to the ground, and the temperature had dropped significantly, to a point where unless he was curled up by a fire, he was never warm. He could feel his heart rate moving slower then normal, just slightly, and it scared him. He hated winter. Falco, on the other hand, seemed better off, a heavier coat of feathers already in, face turned toward the wind in something like bliss as they walked away from their long-time campsite, not bothering to look back.

            "Well, at least we'll know that winter will be half as long." Falco said in a light voice, glancing at him, boots crunching in the leaves. He had proven that he could sew, and their lighter jackets were layered over with rough leather. It had taken them three weeks straight to figure out how to tan, and they had ruined quite a few skins in the process. It wasn't perfect, by far, but the skin lasted, and they turned the fur to the inside for insulation. It didn't make Leon feel much warmer though.

            "It's still not going to be much fun." Leon mumbled, pacing Falco. "Where are we going? Toward the coast?"

            "That's my first thought. I know I saw rock formations there, far enough away from the water to be a possibility."

            After that, silence reigned for quite some time. As a side product of Leon's injury, they had gotten used to being close to each other. They knew each other, having ended up with a deep friendship bond between them almost by default. Though the pain of the past couldn't be forgotten, it had finally been left behind, letting them be friends without guilt or anger. Falco had taken a few days to get used to Leon's alignment once he had finally made the connection, but now he seemed used to it.

            Leon, however, had pulled in a bit. His cards read the same time and time again: a new relationship, and an eventual rescue. He had told the last bit to Falco, who had just scratched his head and nodded, not understanding tarot, but respecting it. Somehow, just that fact contented Leon—he was accepted, all of him, all of his strange hobbies and quirks. He was loosing a lot of sleep over that too, curling up and staring at Falco's sleeping form, wondering just badly he'd get smacked if he moved over and cuddled in.

            "So, how much longer do you think we'll be stuck on this god-forsaken rock?" Falco asked brightly turning so he was practically walking sideways, smiling.

            Leon laughed.

            Wolf sighed, jaw propped on one hand as he looked at printout after printout, trying to ignore the frustration curling in his gut. It had now been nearly three months since he had first set foot on this cruiser, and the situation hadn't gotten better. The real Venomian Loyalists were not only good at hiding, they were borderline fanatics, and had somehow wormed onto nearly every major cruiser Corneria still had. The problem? None of the cruisers could lift. Two had tried, and had suffered engine explosions, one crashing back to the planet, the other drifting in space as it was evacuated. People had died in both incidents, and that only made the weight on Wolf's shoulders heavier.

            He snarled and shoved the printouts off the table, fighting the urge to cup his face and cry. All of the members they had found had been perimeter, knowing nothing about the real movements of the Loyalists, or if they did, they weren't saying. Every name they turned up was false. Even tracking transfer of ship duty records didn't work. These people were, as near as Wolf could tell, ghosts.

            He bit his lip, whimpering very softly. The situation here didn't help. Nowadays, the only respite he got from the tension he had around Fox was when he helped Slippy do maintenance. Hell, even ROB trusted him now. But that didn't stop the spear of awkward pain he felt when he saw Fox and Fara talking. It was really starting to confuse him, too. He felt helpless, watching life spiral around him, wondering what was wrong with him.

            Wolf slipped off the chair and knelt, tail wrapping around his waist as he tried to gather the papers back up, but his shaking hands betrayed him. He was about to give up when other hands steadied his, and he startled, looking up and finding himself very nearly nose-to-nose with Fox.

            "Long day?" Fox let go and helped him sort through the papers, setting them back on the table, then took over completely when he saw Wolf's hands were still shaking.

            "Y-yeah." Wolf drug himself up so he was sitting in the chair again, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling his hackles rise up a bit. He never knew how to act around Fox. He didn't know how he felt, how he was supposed to feel.

            "I know how it feels. None of us are having any luck." Fox put the last of the papers in a stack on the floor. "You wouldn't think this many people would have the ability to perform this level of stealth…" Seeing Wolf wringing his hands again, he reached out and stopped them. "What are you so afraid of? Is it me? You smell like fear whenever you're around me."

            _God damn it… Wolf choked and turned his face away, cursing himself, having forgotten that Fox's nose was just as good as his. He couldn't bring himself to even attempt to answer that either. What was he supposed to say? That he was finding himself attracted to another guy and it was scaring him? That he felt every death because of the Loyalists like a fifty-pound weight on his back? He gasped in surprise when Fox was suddenly looming over him, freezing him in his gaze, demanding to know what was wrong, his face only inches from Wolf's._

            For Fox, it was the shock of his existence when Wolf was very suddenly in his arms, face buried in his neck, shoulders wracking helplessly with bottled emotion. Unable to do anything, he turned his head, trying to form a confused sentence, not understanding, and got an explanation when Wolf kissed him, very softly, whole body shivering. Before Fox could even react, he had pulled back and ripped away, choking out a whisper of "I'm sorry" before tearing out of the room, the door banging shut behind him.

            Fox watched the swinging door shiver, then smacked himself and gave chase, following Wolf's banging footsteps through the ship. He skidded into the bay just in time to see Falco's bike speed down the ramp, Wolf riding it.

            "Thank god Falco isn't here, he'd hunt down Wolf with intent to maim." Slippy said, frowning, wiping oil off his hands. "What the hell was that, Fox? He looked like he was crying."

            "He was." Fox paced, rubbing a hand down his face. "ROB, is there a transponder on that bike?"

            "No. There isn't one on Wolf, either."

            "Damn it." Fox shook his head. "He's got IDs, and money. He's not going to come back, which means that I have to find him. If people find out who he is, god knows what will happen…" Fox checked his pockets and went to his jeep, taking his keys out.

            "Fox, what the hell is going on? Why'd he take off?" Slippy demanded, hands on his hips, scowling.

            He sighed, trying to decide what to say. He had felt the emotion in that one brief kiss, and knew he had to talk to Wolf. "Let's just say that's between him and me." Leaving it at that, he started the jeep and left the ship, leaving Slippy to stare after him.

            Wolf turned the throttle, watching the bike's speed clock up to highway pace, letting the wind wipe his tears away for him, shoulders still jerking as he choked on repressed sobs. He didn't understand what had come over him in that one moment, why he had felt so safe for just a second, but the confusion in Fox's eyes had sent a stab of panic through him. Fox understood less then he did, and he hadn't wanted to explain.

            He lifted a hand to rub at his face, holding the bike as steady as he could one-handed. It wasn't his, and he knew Falco would be pissed if he came back and was without his Harley. Choking on a smile, he lowered the hand, and focused on getting as far away from the Great Fox as he could.

_And I… just wish that I didn't feel like there was something I missed… And I… take back all the things I said to you… And I give it all away just to have somewhere to go to… Give it all away to have someone to come home to…_

Falco teetered on the edge of the cliff, pack discarded behind him, arms spread and feathers fanned, letting the sea spray blow around him, basking in it. It brought his feathers on edge with a memory of flight, flight done with wings of flesh, not steel, and he loved it. He loved the feel of wind of his face.

"Um… can you come away from the edge now, please?" Leon asked, twenty feet behind Falco, hugging himself and jittering. It had to be fifty degrees here on the coast, the air filled with a clammy dampness, little tendrils of fog curling around his boots.

"Why?" Falco looked over his shoulders, arms still outspread, and felt himself smile. "Leon. You're afraid of heights, aren't you?"

"Uh, well, yes." Leon admitted. "Fine and dandy in a fighter jet, but I'm not coming any closer to the edge of that cliff."

"I love heights. I love dancing the edge…" Falco turned and leaned back, letting the wind buffeting up the cliff wall hold him up, eyes half-closed. "It's one of the few times I feel alive."

"Good for you…" Leon felt his eyes get big, worrying. "Now please come away from the edge of that cliff."

Falco chuckled and humored him, straightening and gathering his pack, rejoining Leon. "Let's see about finding some decent shelter, hmm?"

They left, walking away from the beach area and climbing back into the rocky hills, looking for anything that could be a cave formation. Had it been hotter and sunnier, Leon would have felt at home and would have sprawled on one of the smooth rocks. Now, though, in this cold misty weather, he stayed close to Falco.

"These look like sea formations. Like the land moved, or the water did." Leon remarked, rubbing a hand over the smooth cliffs, with more recent, rougher breaks.

"I'd guess the land… Whoa." He paused, looking at a cliff wall covered in vines, water running out from under them. He grabbed and ripped, showing a cave entrance. "Paydirt."

The entry was small, by this planet's standards, only about six feet around, a rough oval shape that was more wide then tall, with a small creek trickling through. Once they were in a few feet, the chamber widened to form a huge egg-shaped chamber, a few smallish holes toward the top worn through, rain water led down by stalactites.

"Underground reservoir, a long time ago." Leon said, looking around. "God, we get off lucky sometimes. This is perfect."

Falco dropped his pack as well as the sled for the case, sitting on the floor with a smile. "That we do." Seeing Leon hugging himself, he frowned. "What's wrong?"

Leon sighed. "I'm cold." Seeing Falco stand again, he sighed and stilled himself, making himself not react when Falco set a hand on his neck.

"Your skin is cold." Falco frowned, then sighed. "It's going to be a long winter. Start a fire, I'll get some more wood. All right?"

He nodded, and watched Falco duck back out of the entrance, neck still tingling from the warmth of his friend's hand, reaching out belatedly, and letting his hand fall with a sigh.

Within a few days, they had made the cave livable, rigging an entrance flap out of hides and the tent tarp, stockpiling wood, making a fire pit, and generally settling in. More hides covered the ground where they slept, layered over dry ferns for padding, and for the first time in a while they slept fairly comfortably, though Leon suspected Falco could sleep anywhere. He still found himself awake at night, watching Falco sleep, knowing he was starting to fall for his friend and helpless to stop it.

Only a week after their discovery of the cave, the first snowstorm blew in, pounding outside of their cave, plunging the temperatures below freezing. Falco enjoyed it in his own twisted way, going outside in the middle of it and coming back with some birds who had gotten blinded by the storm and crashed, joking about a free lunch. Leon smiled, huddled close to the fire, and tried his best to deal with the cold.

Wolf sighed, sitting back, watching what he could see of the bar from his corner table, a half-full bottle in front of him. He was crazy, he knew, to pursue such a dangerous mission without any support, but the weight of guilt on his back could not be ignored. He could not allow any people to needlessly die. Which was why he was here, waiting to meet god-knows-only-who to discuss the Loyalists. Fox hadn't wanted him meeting with them, but he knew it might be one of the only ways to shut the bastards down.

Trying to ignore the stab of pain in his chest when he thought about Fox, he took a drink, eyes wandering, and blinking when he saw a pair of young men walking over to his table, taking their time. He let them, setting his bottle back down on the table and crossing his arms, looking them over. Definitely military, he decided, but they couldn't be high ranking in any respects. Probably privates-first-class. 

"You play cards?" One asked, hand resting on the back of one of the empty chairs.

"That depends on the stakes." He replied, knowing he was supposed to say it. Passwords, classic cloak and dagger, but so casual of words that no one could possibly notice the significance. "Sit."

They did, frowning at him. "You're the Emperor's Blade?"

It had been a while since he had heard that nickname. "Once upon a time, that title was mine. Now there is no Emperor to hold the hilt of that blade." He took one last drink, emptying the bottle. "Ah. The eye patch. Given up for cover, I assure you. The eye is fake."

That seemed to reassure them. "What do you want with us?"

"I'm out of the loop." He froze them in his gaze. "I don't like it. I want to know what's going on."

"Can we trust you?" The other asked.

Feeling the stab of pain again, he smiled bitterly. "Why would I turn back to Lylat? Of course you can trust me."

"Where have you been all this time?"

"Securing an identity." He shrugged. "So. Am I in?"

The pair looked at each other, and nodded. "We'll trust you."

Fox sighed, looking at the report in his hand. Wolf had picked up another identity, other cards. They had given him one, but none of the numbers had turned up, and it had been three days, he had to be staying somewhere. Fox growled, crumbling the paper in frustration, head bowing. "Dammit, Wolf. Where are you?"

Falco woke up with a start, lifting his head wearily. Leon was sitting next to the fire, knees hugged to his chest, looking exhausted. "Aren't you going to sleep?"

"I have to keep the fire going." Leon replied in a tired, drawling voice, fear seeping into him when he heard how slow his voice had become. Cold, too cold…

"It should be all right. Why the concern?" He yawned, trying his damnedest to stay awake for the conversation.

            "If I can't stay warm I might not wake up." Leon's eyes turned to him very slowly, watching his vision waver. "When lizards get cold, too cold, they slip into a hibernation sleep, kind of like a coma. I've never done it, and frankly, I fear it. I may not come out of it if I go into it, so I have to stay warm or risk dying."

            Falco sat up, frowning. "You're serious?"

            Leon nodded, looking back to the fire.

            He was quiet for a few moments, brain racing down the list of alternatives, and sighed. Leon needed bodyheat, and was unable to produce his own. He couldn't lose Leon, not now, he didn't know what he'd do if he woke up and found Leon to be a scaly ball of ice. They were friends, and he couldn't loose the only thing that was keeping him sane on this brutal planet.

            "Grab your blanket and come here."

            Leon jumped. "What?" Slowed or now, he still gaped, jaw momentarily ready to catch nonexistent flies.

            "You heard me." Falco said patiently. "Look, you need to be warm, and I'm well insulated for this. Stack your blanket on top of mine and get under here. Just don't expect me to hug you."

            He blinked owlishly at Falco, brain trying to catch up with this. His best friend, who he loved dearly, was going to actually let him cuddle? Well, to keep him alive, but whatever, he wasn't missing this opportunity. He staggered to his feet and did as he was told, spreading the blanket, kicking off his boots, then sliding in beside Falco, almost wincing at how warm Falco was.

            "Jesus, you're freezing." Falco heard himself blurt, instinctively pulling Leon close and fluffing his feathers, trying to insulate them both. "Don't die on me, ok?"

            "I'll try not to."


	7. Chapter Seven: Runaway

Chapter Seven: Runaway

            Wolf parked the Harley and stepped off, blinking. Somehow, it surprised him that the meeting he was holding with the Loyalists was at an apartment building. It just didn't fit the typeset these people fell into. "Here?"

            "Low-key. All of us are the right age for college students, and a lot live here. Besides, the government won't come in and bug 100 apartments unless they think they have a lead, and so far we know they don't." Replied one of the pair, Jordan, opening the front door and holding it. "Heck, you're probably one of the oldest people in the building."

            Wolf gave him a look. "I am not that old."

            The other, Rick, laughed softly as they got in the elevator, the only noise until they arrived at an apartment. Five other guys were waiting there, looking up when they came in and standing. Wolf suddenly felt like he was being visually dissected, and managed not to squirm, figuring it'd be bad for his image.

            "So, it wasn't some sort of trick, hm?" One asked, crossing his arms. "How did you live through Star Fox's attack?"

            "I could tell you, but then, I'd have to kill you." He replied very quietly.

            The group shared some glances, then seemed to come to some sort of agreement. "All right then, so you're the real deal."

            "Is this it?" He asked, taking a stock of the people in the apartment. None of them looked old enough to be of any rank. "You're probably all privates!"

            "There are a few others, but no more then a dozen." Rick replied. "And yes, we're all of very low rank. That's the beauty of it."

            "I fail to see how you managed to damage cruiser engines without being noticed." He crossed his arms. "Because I know that you were behind it. None of you could have possibly had the clearance, and any friends of yours probably would have been found. You're not the only ones with friends on the inside."

            "We expected that." Replied one of the others. "And you're right, it probably doesn't make much sense from your standpoint, especially since someone let slip that it was an entire ship that turned coat." He smiled. "A lie of course…"

            "So, enlighten me." He leaned one shoulder against the wall, scrutinizing those before him. "How do a dozen low-rank Loyalists do damage without getting themselves arrested?"

            "How much do you know about Andross' experiments?" Said one of the others, this one a slender ferret sitting on the sofa. He was still in uniform, and from his badges was a low-rank medic. Somehow, that bothered Wolf even more.

            That caught him off guard. "Not a lot. That wasn't my business, really. Andross kept work and pleasure separate. War was work, science was pleasure." He rubbed his chin. "I know he did a lot of really weird work with genetics, and that he tried to do some work with mind control. He was rather obsessed with the brain…"

            "Exactly." The medic pulled out a bottle of pills and tossed them to Wolf. "A gift, from our fallen Emperor."

            Wolf caught it automatically, looking at it. It was a clear orange bottle, like prescriptions were given in, but was without a label. It was half-full with small white pills. "Look like uncoated aspirin."

            "Not hardly. That is the product of Andross' research on mind control."

            He blinked, looking at the medic, and after a few seconds of waiting for a cue to laugh, he realized that they were completely and utterly serious.

            "So, what do we know?" Peppy asked, leaning back in his chair on the bridge.

            "He took off a week ago, and got a new identity, because none of the numbers for the one we gave him have come up." Fox replied in a tired voice. "Falco's motorcycle turned up at a police station two days ago, so we can assume he's found another mode of transportation. He's wearing no form of transponder."

            "And why exactly did he take off?" Slippy asked, eyebrow lifted at Fox. "You have failed to explain that to us."

            "And I shall fail to do so right now. Don't ask, all right? The important thing now is that we figure out how to find him."

            "Maybe he just wants to be left alone. Start over, you know?" Peppy remarked.

            "Maybe, but I don't think so. You saw how he was getting about the mission, I don't think he'd be able to leave it behind in good faith." Fox sighed, rubbing his eyes, remembering how badly Wolf's hands had been shaking as he had tried to pick up the fallen paperwork. "I think he's trying to continue the mission on his own time."

            "Wait, we agreed against him contacting them, though. Even he said it'd be too dangerous." Slippy frowned.

            "But I bet that's what he's doing right now. I'm not sure he's concerned about the danger. That's why we've got to find him, before he ends up hurt. He's just as talented as us, as far as being a soldier goes, but no one should go in completely alone."

            Leon woke up slowly, which he was getting used to—he didn't snap awake anymore, due to the cold weather. The fire had burned down to low embers, and faint light came through the holes in the top of their cave, along with a breeze. They had made wooden grates to keep things out, but that didn't count for wind, so he stuck an arm out of the warmth under the blankets and stoked the fire with a nearby stick, stretching to toss some more wood on. Eventually he was awarded with a healthy blaze, and he tucked his arm back under the blanket, rolling slowly.

            Falco was still fast asleep, mumbling in hazy annoyance when Leon rolled, arms automatically tightening to hold his friend close. Leon let his eyes close in contentment, wrapping an arm around Falco's too-thin waist with a sigh. He was pretty sure the only reason Falco pulled him close like that was because his subconscious mind didn't know who it was it was snuggling, but he wasn't sure he cared at this point. He was warm and comfortable, and with the wind howling outside, that was all he really wanted.

            It was almost an hour later when Falco started waking up, automatically letting go of him and stretching out, like a large feathered cat. Leon contented himself with watching; resting his head on one of his arms as Falco hefted himself up and shook off, absently preening a few feathers. It was a morning ritual that Falco went through daily, trying to wake himself up without the assistance of coffee.

            "Sounds nasty out there." He remarked, looking toward the door flap they had made, which was rippling in the wind in spite of being heavy and reinforced.

            "No kidding." Leon sat up easily, wrapping the blankets around his shoulders and tucking his feet under him. "I haven't gotten the bravery to look though."

            Falco chuckled and went to the door flap, loosening one side and looking out. He was promptly slammed in the face with flying snow, and Leon laughed when Falco looked at him with a white face. "Just a bit windy." Falco said in a light voice, wiping snow off his face. "I should probably go out and see if I can find anything to add to our food store, though. We don't have that much saved back…"

            Still wearing one of the blankets, Leon stood and joined him, peering out around his arm. "Falco, it's an absolute white-out out there." He frowned up at his friend. "You don't have that good of eyesight, bird or no. You'll get lost."

            "It's not THAT bad. I'll stay close to the cave, all right?" Falco gave him a half-hug in passing, shrugging into his jacket and putting on his boots. "You have a watch?"

            Leon held up his wrist. "Yep."

            "If I'm not back in twenty minutes, come looking for me." With that he ducked under the flap and was gone into the storm.

            "What is he, nuts?" Leon whispered. "I can't survive that storm…" He retreated several steps and sat by the fire, looking at his watch to note the time, shuffling his cards and settling down for a long-seeming wait.

            Wolf leaned against the bar and tried to keep from staring. The Loyalists had said they'd show him that the pills worked, and he had admittedly been unbelieving. Now, though, he saw that it worked pretty well. The pills dissolved immediately when dropped into a drink, and within ten minutes the person who had drank it became very open to suggestion. Deciding to be amusing in their display of the drug, the three Loyalists he was with had convinced a group of leather-jacket wearing gang members into doing country line dancing, specifically, the Achy Breaky. Not only was it funny as hell, according to the Loyalists once they were done, they wouldn't remember a thing of it.

            And so the drug unveiled its beauty. It washed completely out of the system, and the person didn't remember a thing. So, they could convince ship personnel to destabilize the engines of their ships, and no one was the wiser. True, the supply they had was finite, but the Loyalists had enough to do a lot of damage to the military's fleet.

            "So, how'd you get this stuff?" Wolf asked, studying the claws on one had absently, not wanting to betray the hard anger that gleamed in the back of his eyes.

"Tom, the medic, actually had the guts to call the Emperor up and ask how we could help, even though the war was already lost by then." Rick replied. "We got these by thoroughly mundane mail, three bottles. We're on our second."

"Guess three bottles didn't amount to many pills, mm?"

"Nope, not really." He laughed softly. "But we've been having a destructive ball so far…"

"So I've heard. But coming to the point, how can I possibly help you? After all, I'm not exactly working anywhere that would get your group any advantage, and the people I know can't help much either."

"If anything, you can help with the planning. We've been trying to decide what ship to hit next. Maybe you can help us decide."

"Sure." He swallowed the bile back and smiled weakly, knowing that he wouldn't be able to deal with any more innocent deaths on his back.

            Leon looked at his watch, nibbling on his lower lip uneasily. It had been twenty minutes, and there was no sign of Falco. He listened to the howling wind, and felt a cold ball of worry forming in his gut. He'd have to go find him. Reluctantly dropping his blanket, he laced up his boots and pulled on his jacket over all the shirts he had, gritting his teeth when he opened the flap and the cold hit him, sending a shock through him.

            The wind and snow covered any footsteps Falco had made. Shivering and marking landmarks in his mind, Leon staggered into the storm, tail wrapping around his waist. The storm hadn't lightened up at all, so his visibility was less then five feet. He followed the path they had gotten used to walking, hands tucked in his pockets, breath pluming out as he walked, looking around and unable to see anything.

            He was just feeling his blood grow sluggish and was wondering if he was going to die in this godforsaken cold when he tripped, boot hitting something soft and tumbling into the snow. He sputtered, sitting up, then heard the faint moan. Shocking fully awake, he dug into the lump of snow, up to his elbows in solid cold, but then his fingers touched feathers. He dug deeper, finally unearthing Falco's prone form, hugging his friend to his chest. "Falco… Falco, please wake up… I can't carry you… wake up…!" He choked the words out, leaning his face against Falco's, whimpering softly, shaking hard with cold and fear. He sighed, fingers brushing through the feathers around Falco's scarred eye. "Please…"

            Five minutes passed before Falco stirred, nuzzling into Leon's chest without realizing, body suddenly wracking with shakes as he realized the cold. His eyes opened slowly, and he felt a smile curve his lips just slightly. "Decided to come get me?"

            Leon nodded, feeling a need to sleep scream in his body, the coma-sleep starting to overtake him. "What happened?"

            "Slipped… hit my head." He sighed. "Can you help me up?" When Leon shook his head weakly, he frowned, then it clicked. "Jesus, stay awake." He struggled to his feet and drew Leon close, wrapping an arm around his waist to support him. "You lean on me, I lean on you, we get back home."

            Leon sighed and nodded, eyes barely open, knowing he'd at least die happy.

            Fara jumped when her phone rang, and sighed, pinning it between her shoulder and cheek as she shuffled diagnostics papers. Who would have guessed that chief test pilot included so much bloody paperwork? "Fara Phoenix speaking."

            "Um… Hi Fara. This is Wolf. You remember me?"

            She blinked, putting down the papers. "Yes, of course. Fox is borderline combing the city for you! Where are you?"

            "Listen, uh, don't tell him I called, ok? Please? I don't want him finding me right now." Wolf chewed his lower lip nervously. "The reason I called is that I was curious if you were free for lunch."

            "What? Oh, yes, of course. You want to have lunch with me?" She knew she sounded a bit incredulous. She didn't know that much about Wolf, just his military record and the fact that he was rather polite.

            "I need to talk to you. Will you please not tell Fox?"

            "I guess. Where should I meet you?" A few minutes of discussion and they had decided on a location, and she hung up, staring at the phone. He had sounded desperate somehow, obviously whatever he wanted to discuss was urgent, but why didn't he want her to tell Fox? Didn't he know how worried Fox was about him? That was it, probably, he didn't know, she decided. She'd tell him and try to convince him to go back. If the news caught on, the government would practically be forced to sentence him.

            Falco sighed, sitting next to the fire, leaning back on the heels of his hands. Flame-flavored heat licked over his chest and legs, and he basked in it, tilting his head back absently. Now that he wasn't so cold heat hurt, it was borderline paradise just to be warm.

            Leon was laying beside him, head resting on his leg, eyes half-closed. He wasn't asleep, though, they kept exchanging words every now and then to make sure he didn't sleep until he was fully defrosted. Falco had rubbed Leon's hands and arms, keeping him from getting frostbite, so now he was practically purring in contentment. Still, he couldn't help but wonder why Falco was so affectionate, or if Falco even realized he was doing it.

            "When we get out of here, I am going on a five-hundred dollar grocery run, just food." Falco was saying, voice lazy. "Then, I am spending an hour in a shower, then a weekend at a spa."

            He chuckled softly, nuzzling into Falco's side with a sigh. Falco echoed it, stretching his arms above his head lazily, making his ribs seem even more apparent. Even though they ate well, it wasn't quite enough, both had lost what little fat was on their bodies. "We should go to sleep, you know." He finally remarked, yawning. "I think it's not that I'm frosty, I'm just tired."

            "Hey, ready when you are bud." Falco flopped back, yawning. Once Leon had lifted his head, he rolled and arched his back into a stretch, then stood, walking over to the bed.

            Leon watched this and crawled over, nestling down next to him, staring into the distance as Falco wrapped around his back, feathers automatically fluffing up a bit, one arm draping around his lower ribs. "Fal?"

            "Mn?"

            "Assuming we do get picked up… what's going to happen to… this?"

            "… What do you mean?"

            "I like what we have right now… What's going to happen to this when we get picked up? I'm not going to have anywhere to go…" He trailed off before he started seriously insinuating something. Anyone else would consider them involved, and he knew it, but somehow the situation made it normal, comfortable, and he didn't want to loose it.

            "You can stay with me until you get on your feet. We'll buy bunk beds or something." Falco's voice was muzzy with sleep, and he yawned to punctuate his sentence, tightening his grip just slightly.

            Leon sighed. "Promise?"

            "Promisze…" Then he was asleep, body relaxed and breathing deep.

            "Hey, Fox!" Peppy shouted, staring at the fax he had just got, reading through the facts presented. "Message from Wolf!"

            Fox skidded in. "What's it say?"

            "Just like you thought. He's on the inside with the Loyalists. He's got some stuff for us to relay to the General… oh, Pepper ain't going to be happy about this. He wants personnel shut out of the engine bays for every large military vessel. Only robots allowed. He's not saying how, but apparently the Loyalists are coaxing the ships' own crews to do the damage." Peppy passed the message over. "Nothing to track back, sorry. It was sent from a copy center."

            Fox moaned, rubbing his eyes. "I've been busting my butt trying to find him, and I've found nothing. Find the address of the copy center for me, it's someone to talk to in hopes of finding him. At least he's safe for now though."

            "Let's hope it lasts long enough for us to find him." Peppy watched Fox wander out, and sighed. "I just wish that you'd tell us why it's hurting you so much." He murmured, shaking his head, and knew that Fox would never tell if he had a choice.

            Fara looked around, and frowned a bit, sighing. She was late, but she always was. One thing she lacked was punctuality. "Excuse me, is the person I'm meeting here?" She gave Wolf's fake name, and the hostess nodded toward the bar.

            "He's waiting for you. Keep a hold of him, love, he's gorgeous."

            She forced a smile and walked over to the bar, where one of the men turned and looked at her, standing. Wolf smiled timidly. His mode of dress had changed, now in black slacks and a pale blue silk shirt, but he was too stressed and nervous to actually look good in the posh outfit. "Hi, Wolf." She said softly. "Bit early for a drink, isn't it?"

            "Sorry, stress." He sighed, picking up the martini glass. "Shall we sit?"

            They sat at one of the more secluded tables, and he sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Thank you so much for doing this, Fara. I really needed someone to talk to, and it can't be Fox right now."

            "Well, what's going on?"

            He glanced around, then said in a low voice, "I'm in with the Loyalists right now, seeing how they work. I think they'll be easy to take out, but I need a good chance to reveal them. The problem is all we can get them on really is conspiracy. Proving anything will be hard as hell."

            "Fox said that he didn't think you'd give up the mission."

            "Too many people dead, Fara. I'm the sort that's kept awake by ghosts, imaginary or not."

            There was a long pause, during which they ordered drinks, and she finally spoke up again. "What's this all about?"

            "It's about Fox actually." Wolf finally admitted, shifting uncomfortably. "This is kind of hard to talk about, but… I think I'm in love with him…" He stared at the table. "I mean, I don't get it. Until recently, I was positive I was straight, now I don't know what to think."

            Fara blinked, waiting for her brain to activate and process this. She had noticed how tight Wolf's nerves had been before, now they were screwed tighter, and she could see the anxiety in his eyes. "Wait, now. You think you're in love with a guy, so you come to his girlfriend? Brave…"

            "Who else can I go to?" Wolf asked helplessly. "I mean, the worst you can be is angry, but you can't freak out too badly. Fox freaked. That's why I took off."

            "What, you told him?" She blinked.

            "Uh, er…." He ducked his head lower. "Not exactly." He looked up at her beseechingly. "What's wrong with me?"

            She sighed and caught one of his hands in both of hers. "You know, it could be that you're not actually straight…" She started, and saw his ears lower more. "Well, look at this realistically. You claim to be in love with my boyfriend, and from what I've seen you're telling the truth. But however you were raised apparently gives you the idea that it's wrong."

            "But I do like girls…"

            "So you're bi. It seems like a lot of my friends are nowadays." She shook her head, laughing softly. "I get propositioned more by girls then guys, I swear."

            "I don't know." He looked away. "All I know is that it's really hard to be around Fox now, especially if he's with you. It hurts. I mean, I like you, you've got to be one of the most kick-ass girls I've ever met, but it hurts to see you with Fox."

            "I can understand that." She rubbed her fingertips over the fur on the back of his hand, feeling the scars underneath. Working scars, probably from fights. She wasn't surprised. "But you need to go back, Wolf. Fox is loosing his mind about this right now. He may be straight, but he's really worried about you."

            "I'm not really sure why."

            She turned his head so she could glare him in the eye. "Because you're his friend, you twit."

            "I can't go back yet…"

            "I'm going to tell him about this. Just please. Contact him."

            He bit his lip, then sighed and nodded. "All right, Fara. All right."


	8. Chapter Eight: In The End

Chapter Eight: In the End

            "The Great Fox?" Wolf leaned back, voice incredulous. "That's aspiring pretty high, don't you think?"

            "But it's a perfect target, as far as the Venomian cause goes." Rick said, grinning and taking another swallow of his beer. "And the mechanic is a naïve geek. I've met him twice already. He practically gets hammered after two beers."

            Fighting the urge to punch Rick for what he was saying, Wolf shook his head. "That ship has a damn smart AI. I don't think Toad would be able to get close if he was even the least bit drunk, and he's the only mechanic allowed near the engines, owing to the fact that the Great Fox is for all practicality a private vessel, not a military vessel." He chewed his lip. "Besides, they launched this morning." _Under my advice._

            "Well, that won't work then…" Jordan shuffled papers. "Ah, here's a beauty. Just commissioned to, what irony." He put a printed picture on the table. "That, gents, is the Hammer."

            "Strange name for a ship." Remarked one of the loyalists.

            "As in, Doom Hammer. It's one of the biggest ships ever made. Cost a fortune. It's being launched in two days." He grinned.

            "Good choice." Tom nodded. "The crew will have a lot of greenies on it. Let's do it."

            "Speaking of crew, how many people staff it?" Wolf asked, studying his claws to avoid displaying the anger in his eyes.

            "Estimated three thousand. There will probably be more when it goes down."

            He imagined three thousand faceless soldiers plaguing his dreams, and almost got sick right then and there. He had to turn these kids in, and he knew it, and it had to be soon. But how to prove what they were doing? He just didn't know. He reached over the table and pulled the picture of the ship over, lifting his eyebrows. The Doom Hammer was a beautiful cruiser, graceful, bristling with new weaponry, deadly as it was elegant. He sighed to himself, smiling weakly. _Don't worry, Lady Doom Hammer, your crew isn't going to die this week._

            "We got their next target." Fox said, breadstick hanging out of his mouth as he read, mumbling around it. "This is sure to get the General moving fast. They're targeting the Doom Hammer."

            "We better tell my dad then, he's proud of that ship." Said Slippy. "It's strictly an Arspace creation."

            "We've got to be quiet about this, though. Who knows where their contacts are, and if they catch wind that we know, they'll know there's an insider among them. We don't want to get Wolf killed." Peppy said, stabbing a mouthful of salad with a fork.

            "He knows the risk." Fox sighed, shaking his head. Fara had filled him in on everything they had talked about when the pair had had lunch. So, Wolf, his friend, was in love with him. He had no idea what to do about it, either. He didn't want to hurt Wolf in any way, he saw by that haunted gaze that Wolf had been through more then enough pain, but he wasn't interested in Wolf like that. On the up hand, Fara was taking it in stride, just remarking that she had dealt with multiple girls trying to steal him, what's so different about a guy wanting to? He wasn't sure he wanted to ponder that.

            The fax machine buzzed, and Slippy got it automatically, scanning over it. "Once the Loyalists are caught, Pepper's going to give us three different search teams. Apparently the rest of the Safety council is starting to cave. He's been pitching fits pretty regularly at them because they're the ones who wouldn't give us the teams in the first place."

            "Falco looks up to him, and he knows it." Peppy said, looking at the life display that showed Falco's relative health. They had had a scare, not long ago, when the signal suddenly dangerously dimmed, then it had come back five minutes later. The health chip wasn't highly sophisticated, but it was reporting a significant weight drop for the avian. "It's been four months…"

            "He'll last a few more days. He's stubborn. And he'll probably give me a black eye when we pick him up." Fox laughed weakly. "Now if only we knew what Wolf was planning…"

            "Man, gotta love these seasons." Falco said, sticking his head out. "It's above freezing out here, and the sun's out. We're going to have to clear the snow in front of our cave to keep from being flooded."

            "Four months now?" Leon said, a piece of dried meat dangling out of his mouth as he gnawed on the end, shuffling his cards.

            "Just a bit over." He sighed and let the flap close, wandering over and flopping onto the bed. "I want to go home."

            "I know." Leon smiled softly. "I think I'm looking forward to it as well."

            "Oh?"

            "You proposed bunk beds, remember?"

            There was a pause, then Falco said, "Yeah, I guess I did. Hmm."

            He stopped, cards bridged for another shuffle. "Are you having second thoughts?"

            "I don't know. Two guys and maybe a pet cat. I know what all of my friends will think."

            "Is that so bad?" Leon blurted, then bit his lip.

            Falco sat up, staring at him. "What do you know that I don't?" He pointed to the cards, eyes narrowing just slightly.

            "Uh, well… Every time I do the future, these two cards come up." He tossed the Lovers and the Two of Cups on the bed in front of Falco. "Every time. That's us, Falco."

            "That can't be right…" Falco frowned, tapping the lovers card. "How long?"

            "Since I whacked you over the head, so nearly four months."

            Falco moaned, rubbing his eyes. He mind was a blurry blank. He wasn't sure how much faith he put in Leon's fortune-telling skills, but what Leon had done had been so close to truth it had been eerie. He himself had only handled the deck once, and it had been strange somehow, like he had stepped into someone else's house without asking permission. He had given the cards back within thirty seconds. Ok, so he was pretty sure there was some truth to Leon having some sort of power through the cards, but he didn't want to think that the cards could tell the future, especially now. "Leon, I'm straight!"

            "No, I don't think so." He replied very carefully.

            "What right do you have…"

            "Because you hold me when I sleep, and it isn't for warmth anymore." He cut Falco off, voice taking on an edge. "You may not even know you're doing it, but you're pretty damn affectionate with me, Falco. When I found you in the storm, the first thing you did was nuzzle into me. You do that a lot."

            "But…"

            "But what? You're straight? You're a virgin, so how the HELL would you know?"

            He jerked back as if he had been slapped. "How… how did you…"

            Leon sighed and held up the card deck. "Don't have a coronary, Falco, it's not worth it. I know you're bewildered, but it's natural. You just noticed the closet you're in."

            "But, but I'm not in a closet." Falco moaned, rubbing his eyes, a wave of nausea passing through him. Why the hell was Leon suddenly throwing this in his face? And how long had he been cuddling without realizing it?

            "I think you are. You may have hit on girls, once upon a time, but what drove you and Katt apart Falco? Irreconcilable differences? What differences?" Seeing comprehension forming in Falco's eyes, he sighed, crossing his arms and leaning his head back. "I'm not trying to be cruel, ok? I'm just saying that maybe you need to think a while."

            He replied by rolling on his side and curling up, back to Leon, shivering and hugging himself. His mind had cleared, but was now going in endless circles, unable to believe what he had just been told. He liked girls. He liked talking and dancing with them. In the light of that, how could he be… gay? Eyes closing tight, he thought back, and knew that Leon was right about the cuddles. Hell, he didn't even know why he did it, it just felt like instinct to.

            He winced when he felt Leon's hand rest on his lifted shoulder, fingers intertwining with his feathers. "Why are you so insistent?" He finally asked in a faltering voice, curling up even tighter, shivering.

            Leon replied by curling up around him, hand finding his and lacing with it. "I have my reasons." He finally replied, nuzzling the back of Falco's neck, provoking a very soft sigh. "For one, you'll never really be a whole person if you don't recognize who you are in the first place. For another, well…" He cut himself off, swallowing hard as the words choked in his throat. He couldn't bring himself to say it. He had known it for at least a month, yet couldn't actually say it to Falco's face.

            "What?" Falco asked after a moment.

            "Oh, never mind." Leon mumbled, burying his face in the curve made by Falco's neck and shoulder. _ 'I love you.'_

            There was a long pause, then Falco asked in a distant voice, "Just how accurate are your cards?"

            "Completely, within reason."

            "God help me."

            "Here's the plan. Because of the Doom Hammer's imminent launch, most of the crew will be here tonight. Let's be casual, track down some of the engine maintenance crew, and convince them their ship shouldn't fly." Said Jordan, clustered with the rest of the Loyalists and Wolf outside a bar. There were a number of other groups standing around, so they were inconspicuous. "Something wrong, Wolf?"

            He managed a strained smile. "Long day." Not made shorter by the zipties hidden in his jacket, which were used quite often as lightweight, easier-to-carry handcuffs. Everything was planned out with Fox and the MPs, but he had to make the first moves and try to knock out or restrain as many of the Loyalists as he could.

            "Hm. Well, let's go."

            Wolf followed them into the bar, swallowing back bile, and spent the next hour in a blur, schmoozing with different people, flirting with the occasional girl, unable to stay focused on the task. Thank god he had switched sides, he couldn't even think about taking down the Doom Hammer, much less actually do it. Eventually though, his tolerance ran out.

            He calmly reached out a hand and covered a random soldier's beer mug, preventing him from drinking. "Don't. It's drugged."

            "What?" The soldier blinked, and almost instantly all the Loyalists were looking at Wolf, waiting to see what he was doing, already angry.

            "It's drugged." Wolf gently pushed the mug back down to the table, and picked out four other victims. "You would also be wise to dump your drinks."

            "What do you mean by drugged?" Demanded one.

            "Let's just say its roofies on steroids, ok?" Wolf sighed and rolled his eyes. "If you guys want the Doom Hammer to lift successfully, you won't drink." The rest of the mugs hit the table, and Wolf stood, looking at the Loyalists. "Time to end the façade."

            "Who are you working for?" Rick hissed, clearly angry.

            "Star Fox." He kept his voice calm, cool. "I have been for a while now. I am in no way loyal to Venom."

            That caused a ruckus within the bar, people scrambling back, and quickly a ring of people formed.

            Jordan was the first to react, pulling a small revolver out from under his belt and leveling it at Wolf. "We should kill you right now. You lied to us! We trusted you!"

            "Your first mistake. I'm a mercenary, not a fanatic. I never believed in Andross' cause. He paid me." Wolf stepped forward, leaving his jacket with the people he had just 'rescued' in a sense, hands loose at his sides, eyes never leaving the gun. "And you can try to kill me. Fox McCloud couldn't do it. An entire Air Force couldn't do it. I doubt you can."

            There was a moment frozen in time, then Jordan snarled and opened fire. The crowd was already out of the way, and Wolf shifted to one side, unbothered by Jordan's bad aim as he watched the bullets shriek by, hackles rising. Then he was moving, disarming Jordan and twisting his arm, scowling at the rest of the Loyalists. "Back off, or I break his arm, then his back."

            They scrambled several steps back. "You wouldn't do that!" Rick said desperately, eyes wide. Wolf recognized that desperation, and sighed, shaking his head, and forced the angle farther, making Jordan cry out raggedly. 

            "Why wouldn't I? You, you IDIOTS are the reason why I'm haunted every night! Do you have ANY idea how many innocents you've killed with your senseless moves? There is no Emperor to get revenge for! There is nothing left of the Venomian force! You've been killing for no reason." A motion of his hands, and Jordan was on the floor, hands zipped together then zipped to his belt. Jordan moaned, pain spikes from strained muscles shaking him. Rick staggered forward and knelt beside him, plucking uselessly at the ties, trying to help his friend. "You're nothing but cultists." He said in an acrid voice. "You know nothing of what you've done."

            "You broke his arm!" Rick shrilled, grabbing the revolver off the floor and firing in the same motion.

            When the huge convoy of MPs arrived, as well as a sizable group of police and EMTs called by people in the bar, they found a confused quiet inside. Most of the people were standing outside, waiting for the dazed and restrained Loyalists to be removed so they could return to their drinks. Those still inside were watching over the Loyalists, most of which had minor injuries.

            And a few were around where Wolf was sprawled on the ground, trying to stop the blood flowing from the bullet hole in his gut.

            Fox elbowed his way through the crowd of officials, dropping to his knees beside his friend. "Wolf?"

            "Hi Fox." Wolf smiled weakly, tail making an attempt at wagging. "I pissed one of them off. Broke his buddy's arm."

            "Shame on you then." Fox bit his lip, glancing at the people kneeling across from him. "Are any of you medics?"

            "All of us are." Replied the one he was looking at. "The wound isn't as bad as it looks. It was a small bullet. It's still in there though, and it's going to take surgery to get out."

            "Jesus." Fox swallowed, finding Wolf's hand. "Looks like you got all of the Loyalists, Wolf."

            "I know. Good for me. I want a vacation."

            He chuckled. "You got it, brother. Let's get you out of here."

            The next day…

            Falco sighed, lying on his stomach next to the fire, watching Leon lay out his cards without seeing it. He had spent the last few days miserable, and watching Leon turn up those same two damnable cards again and again wasn't helping. He still wasn't able to believe it that he, known player, could possibly be alternate lifestyle. If it had gotten any warmer outside, he would have tried to make Leon sleep alone, but feeling the reptilian shivering next to him made all his instincts go haywire. For some reason, some part of him wanted to protect Leon in any way possible, and he didn't understand it at all.

            Leon leaned his chin on his palm, staring at the cards, and smiled a bit. "Put your boots on."

            "Hrm?"

            "We need to find somewhere dry to send up a smoke signal." Even as he spoke, he had put his cards away and was lacing up his boots with swift hand motions. Seeing that Falco wasn't moving, he sighed and knelt next to him, drawing him up so he held his friend to his chest, sighing again when he noticed that Falco was practically dead weight. "Falco, you shouldn't drag yourself down like this."

            "I'm not. I'm just confused." He mumbled in response, leaning into the comfort automatically. "Why the smoke signal?"

            "They're in orbit right now. They're looking for us." He smiled when he saw Falco's eyes open the rest of the way. "Yes, I'm sure. We're going home."

            Falco blinked once, then smiled, snapping to his feet and pulling Leon up with him, hugging the smaller man so tight most of his spine popped. Home, they were finally going home. He was going to give Fox a piece of his mind. "Thank god for those skills of yours. Let's see if you're right."

            Five minutes later, they were sitting next to a minor bonfire, staring up at a cold blue sky. They knew it would take a while, hell, the search teams had a globe to cover, but they had waited this long. They could wait another hour. Leon took the opportunity to nuzzle into Falco, not sure when he'd get to do so again, and was delighted when Falco wrapped an arm around his ribs, holding him close.

            "This has been one hell of a vacation, eh?" He finally said, face leaned against Falco's chest, eyes half-closed against the bitter wind.

            Falco chuckled softly. "Yes indeed."

EPILOGUE

            Fox hesitated, then opened the door and leaned in, smiling weakly when he saw Wolf curled up on his side, facing the door. "Hey."

            "Hi. Falco and Leon home safe?" Wolf levered himself up as Fox came in fully, pulling up a chair to sit next to the bed.

            "Yes indeed. Falco gave me a bear hug, then a bloody nose." Fox rubbed his bruised muzzle at the memory. "They've both lost a lot of weight and are a bit malnourished, but amazingly enough they're happy. Between the two of them, they emptied the Great Fox's hot water heater three times getting clean. Majority of it was Falco, though."

            "Eh, naturally. Leon can take two-minute showers after belly-crawling through a swamp." Wolf rolled his eyes. "The doctor said I can leave in a few days. They just want to be sure about the stitches and thus forth. Apparently, I got lucky. Not sure that's true, but hey."

            "That's good then." Fox looked at the floor, popping his knuckles nervously, trying to figure out what to say. "Listen, uh…"

            "We've got to talk." Wolf propped his jaw on his hand. "Right?" When Fox blinked at him blankly, he smiled sourly. "I had time to think, especially recently. Lying around drugged after a minor surgery gives you plenty of time to muse. Well, now that you're disarmed, please continue. I think I'm prepared for a blow, or the next one." He glared at his still-bandaged stomach.

            "Jesus, Wolf, relax!" Fox's hands flew up in treaty. "I don't want to hurt you! At all!" When Wolf stayed silent and just looked at him, he took a deep breath and continued. "Look, I've seen your eyes. You've been hurt enough, I don't know by what, but I in no way want to add to it. The problem is, I don't really know what to do. You caught me completely off guard when you kissed me."

            "Yeah, I know. And I'm sorry." Wolf flopped back and sighed, staring at the ceiling. "I don't know what got into me."

            "Well, whatever did, I'm not sure what to do about it. I'm pretty sure you know I'm straight, and even if I was bi, I love my girlfriend too much to cheat." He shrugged weakly. "I don't want to hurt you, but it seems I don't have a choice."

            "Well, at least you're nice enough you don't lead me on." Wolf sighed again, shaking his head, feeling depressed. He had known it was going to happen, but he still felt rejected. At least, though, he had gotten that one kiss. That made some of this worth it. "So. What do we do now?"

            "I don't know. You and Leon are pretty much pardoned, so that isn't a problem. You're more then welcome to hang on the Great Fox until you figure it out."

            He felt himself smile, turning his head back to face Fox. "I think I'd like that."

            "I'm not sure about that." Fox sighed, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. "Falco came back more moody then he left. Anyone within a mile of him is liable to feel the shockwave, too."

            Wolf laughed softly. "Interesting times."

            "I can't agree more. Want me to see if I can get you out of here early?"

**

Author's Notes:

Chapter titles owned by Linkin Park

Music mention with props to Rammstein

Story Title owned by whoever made the movie

Special thanks for Atroximus for being my editor

… and yes folks, there just may be a sequal.


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